


Sleepless and Stranded

by SheyRicci



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheyRicci/pseuds/SheyRicci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his brother was injured on a salt and burn then jumped at a bar, an exhausted Sam wanted a comfortable, out-of-the way, safe place to take him while he recovered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

One job, one simple, every-day, run-of-the-mill, salt and burn-the-bones, job. There wasn't supposed to have been anyway anything could go wrong. Breeze into town, do a bit of research, light a bonfire, and roll out, easy-peasy. Not.

***000***

Herbert Winston Coleman had no clue he wasn't as alone as he thought he was, no idea someone observed him in the rain-darkened night. Herbert, Herb….. _Herbie_. Anyone wishing to remain conscious with all bones left intact would never call him Herbie.

It didn't matter what name he went by, soon he would cease to exist and his headstone, should his body ever be recovered, could read whatever anyone wanted to impart. The closest family was a sister, though it was doubtful she would miss him if she ever found out someone had put him six feet under. It wasn't such a shame really, that he had to die, he was hardly an upstanding, well-liked citizen and if you did the crime…

There was no way he would be allowed to live after what he'd done. There was a time when perhaps his actions would have warranted an anonymous call to the local police and the legal system allowed to deal with what he'd done.

But. Not. Now.

It didn't matter that Herbie hadn't known who he'd taken a dislike to. That, had he known his opponent was a hunter and not just a pretty face, he might not have attacked with such violence and intent to kill. No longer would a judge and jury have the final say in what happened to some asshole who was responsible for even one bruise on his brother. Been there, done that, lived to regret it every single time. Not again, never again, ghost or monster, human or other-worldly being, it no longer mattered.

New motto: You hurt my brother, you forfeit your life.

Sam remained where he was, standing out of the rain in the dark doorway of a closed store, waiting until the car Herbie had driven off in was out of sight before lighting a cigarette. The gentle rain was cold, yet soothing. It wasn't a storm; there was no thunder or wind, just a steady, light rain. He inhaled, letting the nicotine calm his rage. Now was not the time. He had other concerns and more problems to face before he could give Herbie's last remaining days on earth the attention they deserved.

He exhaled, savoring both the taste and scent of the smoke. Smoking. Bad habit. Bad, unhealthy habit, that Dean, were he able, would kick his ass over. Whoever, himself included, would have thought he knew how to smoke? He didn't know when he'd taken up the habit, no….wait, he knew…it was just…..he didn't want to remember that time of his life. He didn't embrace or enjoy smoking, and yet….he needed it all the same. But not for any reason a sane person would assume.

Never before had he had the urge, not once, to smoke, until the night he'd found out Dean had lied to his face. He'd walked away from his brother that day, lost and confused and in a fog. With nothing to anchor himself to, no reality to find, no one to seek solace from, he'd wandered for a bit, finally coming to his senses sitting on a picnic table, cigarette in hand, reeking of smoke. Later, he'd discovered two entire days had passed that he had no memory of.

He gripped the pack of cigarettes in his hand, needing the comfort the gesture gave him. It was a habit that revealed a secret he never had any intention of letting Dean find out about. Every time he lit up a cigarette, a memory from the year he'd been back without both his soul and his brother came back to him. Apparently not only had he been a cold, cruel, ruthless hunter unconcerned with right and wrong and not selective in sexual partners, he'd also chosen to stay away from his brother but tolerated no one threatening him in any way.

He started to walk down the street, needing to think. He found walking cleared his thoughts and led him to behave in a rational, controlled manner. He couldn't afford to freak out or lose his temper. Not with the job they'd come to town to do left unfinished, a son-of-a-bitch on the loose and Dean down and dependent on Sam to control both the situation and their safety.

He flicked the stub to the pavement and ground it out with the heel of his boot. Every credit card he or Dean had were unusable. He had little cash and while he had access to more, he'd have to go and retrieve it. He couldn't, wouldn't subject Dean to riding in a car the distance it would take to get to Montana. He might not know anyone in the vicinity to call upon for help, but his alter-self sure as hell did. His thumb caressed the crumbled pack of cigarettes in his pocket, then chucked it into a nearby trash can. It had served its purpose and he had no intention of returning to his brother and risk Dean discovering the pack.

He had a phone call to make.

***000***

"Now, who the fuck….." Manny looked at the display on his cell, uttering a curse when he read, caller ID blocked. He toyed with answering it, but made the unwise decision to let it go to voicemail. Unwise because pissing off the caller once he realized who it was could only be described as suicidal. Curiosity got the best of him, so as soon as his cell sang the alert tone for voicemail, he dialed in. "Oh-Fuck-Me." he breathed. The message was short, certainly not sweet and from a voice he'd hoped to never hear from again.

" _Manny, you little chicken shit, avoiding me ain't gonna work. You have ten minutes to call me back or I will find you and separate every last one of your toes and fingers from your person with piano wire."_

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit." he threw the phone, sat for a moment then leapt to his feet and scurried around his small apartment, locking every door and window and pulling the shades and curtains. Fear had him cowering in the corner of his kitchen, gun held with both hands between his knees, waiting for the reason he was about to pee his pants to materialize in front of him.

Gradually, fear subsided and common sense took over. There was no possible way Sam could know where he was. Not yet anyway. He didn't doubt Sam would eventually find him if he chose to look for him. Best to call him back, see what he wanted and hope he could appease the giant psycho without the loss of any appendages.

"Sam. Sorry man, was in the can."

"Sure, whatever." Sam was walking down the street in the rain but ducked under a building overhang to keep the cell phone dry. "Listen Manny, I'm near Portland, Oregon and I need a place to hole up, cash only, no questions asked, few people, you hearing me?"

"Huh, yeah, yeah, got my ears on dude, chill." Manny swiveled his chair around and tapped keys on the computer. "How long you be lying in?"

"Month or better, and I'm talking, 'leave-me-the-hell-alone' kinda place. Need privacy."

"Yeah, yeah, dude, I know…..I gotcha…..just gimme a moment, will ya?" he wiped his sweaty palms on the thighs of his pants, breathing easier. Sam didn't want him to do anything more than find him a place to stay. That was doable. Sam wasn't asking for his help or money or for Manny to join him, he just wanted to go to ground. That, Manny could do. "Okay, ok, ok, right….so…" he knew better than to ask questions or expect answers, but….. "Aah, what will you need in way of…amenities?"

"What? Jesus Manny….the hell! Food, shelter…..you know…"

"Huh, well…..ok…if that's all…"

"Need a…hospital within a couple of miles." Sam added. He wasn't stupid. He was well aware he may have to take his brother to the hospital should his injuries be worse than he suspected. If Dean showed signs of internal bleeding or a head injury, he wanted medical help nearby. "And I need a clinic I can….hit up…for supplies...tonight."

"Hit up? As in break-in and steal? Medical supplies…you got hurt? What you need?"

"Pain meds….aah…..strong ones…dressings and ointments for burns…..antibiotics."

"Right, right…okay…..that's easy, gimme a moment…so, any need for electricity?"

"What the hell? Yeah, Manny, I'm gonna need electricity." visions of a tent pitched on a hill next to a stream had him kicking at the brick store front. He thought of nights alone with Dean, stuck in bed, bored and in pain. "And internet and cable and a DVD player."

"Oh." a moment passed with only noises of papers being sorted through and a keyboard being tapped. "Just you?" wouldn't surprise him if psycho Sam was shacking up with some bimbo.

"Aah, no….."

"So..then…just the two of you?" Manny asked. He'd heard in a roundabout way that Samuel might have met an unfortunate end but no one was completely sure. All he knew was no one had heard from him in months.

"Yeah."

"Two…..okay…..maybe….shit…ok,,,,we're good…not a problem….just hang on….ok…ok…..let's see, propane…aaah, no…ok…say…okay generator….good…so….go to the Salpare Bay Marina, ask for Jimmie Connors. Setting you up at…"

His cell beeped, the alert telling him he had another incoming call. Dean, 'cause no one, not even Bobby, had this new number. "I gotta go Manny, thanks." he disconnected. He supposed he could live on a boat for a couple of weeks, he wanted privacy…..no maids, no desk clerks, no unruly guests next door, less likely for anyone to see them, less likely for cops to patrol. He thumbed answer to speak to the next caller. "What's wrong?"

Dean was alone in a foreclosed house where they'd taken temporary refuge after the warehouse surveillance had gone wrong. They'd fled the warehouse on foot and Dean had remained at a nearby bar while Sam returned to retrieve their car. When Sam returned for his brother, he'd found him unconscious in the parking lot of the bar, courtesy of Herbert.

Upon finding a place to squat in such a remote location, Sam had wanted to crash there but once he'd gotten Dean inside, he'd known they couldn't stay. The injury to Dean's leg from the warehouse was a burn on the back of his left calf and their first aid kit was inadequate. Sam still didn't understand how Dean had acquired the burn, as far as he knew, security laser beams, when broken, caused an alarm to go off, not burns.

"Dean? Hey man….what's up?" he'd hoped to have made it back before Dean woke up, but when did both hope and luck ever combine and go his way? Knowing what he did about the world, heaven and hell, he couldn't help but sometimes think, on some other plane, some alternate universal there was still a being looking out for him and his brother, guiding their way through life. May not be able to prevent an injury, such as being shot, but able to ensure the bullet didn't kill them. He frowned, hearing nothing but heavy panting. "Dude, come on, sounds like you….."

"Where…you…..at?"

"Just….went out to the store, get you something to…drink…some ice….I'm on my way back…you doin' okay?"

"Yeah." his voice was weary, wet. "….'kay….Sam? I…don't….feel….so good."

"Hang on…I'm on my way back." his voice was thick as it occurred to him Dean could be hurt worse than he'd originally thought. He disconnected and shoved the phone into his pocket. He didn't like how breathless Dean had sounded or how wet his voice had been. The fact Dean had called just to ask where he was and to say he didn't feel well made Sam want to go after Herbert right then and there. Separate his head from his shoulders and walk away without looking back. He'd done it before and he'd do it again.

He gave himself a shake, trying to rein himself in and gain control. A glance at his watch revealed it was just after eight o'clock. Over two hours had passed since the botched break-in at the warehouse. Manny had given him the address of a clinic three blocks away but had warned him not to attempt a break-in until after nine. In his current state, doped on the strongest pain meds Sam could find in the med kit, Dean wouldn't have any idea how much time passed and with an hour to waste, Sam had time to find someplace with free wi-fi and read up on boats. God please, don't let it be a damn sailboat.

He was confident no one would be able to trace him via Manny, but on the remote chance, someone did, he didn't plan on being where Manny had directed him. The biggest issue at the moment was obtaining cash. Off the top of his head, he estimated a one-way, nine-hour drive, to Whitefish, Montana. Not a big deal if he could bring himself to leave Dean for the length of time it would take to drive out, get a couple of hours of sleep and drive back. They really needed to see about stashing some cash around various cities in different states.

The more he thought about the boat, the more he liked the idea. Anchored out in the water would be remote and removed from the public. Even if they remained docked, Dean wouldn't be so eager to wander about on his own and would find it difficult to find someone to sweet talk his way around. There'd be no maids or clerks or teen-age daughters from the family staying in the room next door. There'd be no local pizza delivery, no nearby sub-shop or bar to walk to when Sam hid the car keys from him. And when Sam decided that Herbie had wandered around carefree long enough, his elder sibling wouldn't be able to do a damn thing to stop him. Well, no, that wasn't true. Nothing and no one would ever stop Dean from accomplishing whatever goal he'd set for himself but at least he'd find it a bit more complicated to achieve.

***000***

Dean stirred with a soft groan, cell phone falling from limp fingers. God, he hated hospitals. He hated the noise, the smells, the lights that were either too dim or too harsh and never just right, the constant invasion of privacy, the loss of dignity, the overall humiliation of being forced to submit to the mercy of a nurse. Oddly though, this one seemed to smell more of mold and decay than antiseptic and disinfectant.

Just under the level of consciousness next to awareness, it took him a moment to realize that: one, he was not in a hospital, two, he had no idea where the hell he was and three, he was well and truly alone. When the hell had that happened? No, no…. he didn't care, waking up meant dealing with issues and problems and Sam's disappearance and attitude and his own pain and he was just too fucking tired to care about any of it.

He wondered what time it was, even with his eyes closed and in a state of semi-consciousness, he was aware it was dark outside, figured it to be somewhere towards evening, he didn't know, nor did he care enough to find out. Sam had gone out, leaving Dean alone, but he'd be back, He wouldn't have gone and left him behind – well, not hurt anyway.

He shifted uneasily, trying in vain to find a comfortable position, giving up with a sigh and settling for the least painful. He wasn't in a bed, that much he could discern. While the blanket beneath him was soft like nylon, it wasn't a mattress, was probably a sleeping bag as it did little to cushion the hard floor making his hip numb. The musty air about him made him nauseous and he wished for a cold wet cloth and maybe something to drink.

He turned his head to face the window, squinting through a medication induced haze and wishing it were open. He didn't remember taking anything yet he must have, or rather, he'd had it forced down his throat. He was under their effects and Sam had been the one to administer them. If he wanted to, _really_ wanted to, he could fight through the layers of haze and fog caused by the meds but was there really a need to do so? Well, he could open the window. The fact it was dark and raining lured him back sleep. Since he didn't know where he was or why he saw no reason not to submit to whatever medication he'd been given.

***000***

Sam returned with soup and crackers but doubted he'd be able to tempt Dean into eating. He let himself into the house, lit only by a solar-powered camp lantern. Its charge all but petered out and he said a small prayer that he'd returned before it had died completely. Dean handled a lot of shit, dealt with his issues internally and though he'd never admitted any such thing to Sam, the younger Winchester knew how to read his brother. Dean didn't do well alone in the dark, not now, not after – well hell. Even if it had been years.

"Dean?" he whispered, squatting down next to the sleeping bag and rubbing a hand across his face. Being susceptible to infection, the unsanitary house was not a place to treat Dean's injury. Sam had wanted to drive straight out-of-town, but upon regaining consciousness in the car, Dean had been in too much pain to ignore and his steady decline over the last several hours made it necessary to treat the burn now. "Hey dude, you awake?"

"Ya…hun." came the muffled reply. Sam leaned closer to try to hear what he was saying.

A quick look around the cramped camp set up in the moldy living room bare of furniture revealed that Dean hadn't been up at all. The cooler of ice with water and juice sat as Sam had left it. Too weary to remain balanced on the balls of his feet, his left knee thudded to the floor. Dean moved away with another muffled murmur. Sam bit his lip, hand tangled in his hair to hold it out of his face. He hated seeing his brother in such a state. Not weak or defeated, but vulnerable and defenseless. He shouldn't have left him alone and unprotected at the bar or at the house while he'd gone out to appease his anger and temper. Christ, would he never learn? Apparently not, because come morning, he'd be leaving him again.

"Yeah…just me." he didn't like Dean pulling away from him for that meant in his confusion, he didn't recognize him. With a sigh, Sam pushed to his feet, wondering whether it had been such a good idea to keep Dean from a hospital.

He gazed about the dirty, dank room, knowing it would be best to treat the burn on Dean's leg some place clean and well-lit, where there was access to hot water and soap. He had another lantern with LED bulbs that ran on batteries so lighting wasn't a problem. He now had the medical supplies needed but this wasn't the right place. He sat down on his own sleeping bag, reclined against the wall as he watched his brother sleep.

What was he supposed to do? Wait and treat the injury in a safe, clean, sterile place which would be better against infection or treat it now to alleviate pain and discomfort? He'd hastily dressed the burn earlier with antibiotic ointment and a sterile dressing from the first aid kit they kept with them in whatever car they were driving, about all Dean would tolerate him doing and now he pondered whether he needed hot water and a place where Dean would be comfortable.

The solar lamp gave out.

"Fuck." he pushed to his feet and dragged his duffel over. He'd wasted enough time, the longer the burn, which had burned through denim, was left untreated, the worse the chance for infection. Regardless of their accommodations, it needed medical attention now. Dean was already showing signs of becoming feverish so after digging out the battery-powered lantern, Sam spread out the supplies on his sleeping bag, grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol to use in lieu of the preferred hot water and began.

First, he fought with Dean to remove the blanket he was hugging. Several sharp tugs finally freed it. Next, he removed his brother's boots then hesitated over his jeans. He'd already cut the denim from ankle to knee to get at the injured calf earlier but he hadn't properly checked him over for any injuries acquired in the beat down, courtesy of Herbert, at the bar; might as well do so now when Dean couldn't put up much of a fight.

"Hey, hey, hey…..just me….relax." Sam soothed tiredly when Dean began to stir, hands moving to push away the touch he felt at his hip. "Dean! Enough…..it's just me." he watched as green eyes darted about in panic until Sam moved into their view. "See? Just me. Iwanna look at your leg."

"You….did."

"I know." Sam held his arm out. "Grab hold, need you to sit up….get your shirt off…okay?"

"For…my…leg?"

"Dude…..you got your ass kicked, remember?"

"Ugh."

Undressing him didn't take long and soon Sam had his brother lying on his back, wearing only boxer briefs, shivering in the damp air of the unheated room. So, numerous bruises, couple of welts from kicks with a pointed boot, cuts and scrapes and abrasions, but no broken ribs nor did Sam find any evidence of a head injury. He elicited a slight response when he poked and prodded along Dean's belly but it wasn't a severe reaction so Sam tossed the blanket over his chest and shoulders, made a mental note to keep an eye on him to see if his belly or kidneys became tender and turned his attention to concentrate on his leg.

"Fuck." he rubbed his eyes tiredly. He was not an expert on burns and this burn wasn't like any burn he'd ever seen before, though admittedly, he'd seen precious few over his lifetime, severe burns not being an injury hunters usually acquired.

The worst burn Sam had ever seen had been when they were kids and Dean had burned the palm of his hand by grabbing a pan off the stove before the flames could set fire to the walls. The twelve-year old had attempted to tend it himself, Sam too busy sobbing he was sorry and of no help but the pain had been too much and knowing he was in over his head, Dean had sought out their father.

John, to Sam's surprise, had been calm, patient even. He hadn't yelled or reprimanded or even scolded, had simply sat his eldest on the kitchen table and unwrapped his hand. Sam had seen the red bubbly blisters crossing his brother's palm and his swollen fingers but it'd been the vile curses John spit out that told him it was more serious than their dad was content to take care of. He and his teary-eyed older brother had huddled together in the backseat of the Impala, still clad in their pajamas as their father drove to the ER.

This….this hole in his brother's leg resembled nothing of that long-ago childhood memory. The blisters were yellowish and scaly, the outer edge of skin black with melted denim molded to layers of skin that he was going to have to cut away. God, what he wouldn't give for hot water. He could start a fire, melt the ice, use all their bottled water and it still wouldn't be enough. He didn't know of any nearby streams and he wasn't going to leave Dean for the hour it would take to drive to the store and buy more.

It had to hurt…no wonder Dean had collapsed at the bar, drawing unwanted attention to himself and ending up on the wrong side of Herbert's fist. It had to be excruciatingly painful and it was about to get worse. He consulted the medical book he'd taken from the clinic, tossed the surgical scissors and tweezers and scalpel into a bowl of rubbing alcohol and got comfortable. He was looking at one hell of a long night.

"Dean? Hey…..roll over." Sam nudged him along his hip. "No…all the way….need you on your belly."

With a snuffle and a sigh, a fair amount of groaning and a wince or two, Dean turned over, settling back down without a care about what Sam was up to. Sam attributed that to the influence of pain meds and wondered if Percoden would be strong enough for him to tolerate the messy, painful procedure to come.

Though he'd helped himself to Vicodin pills, liquid Morphine and dissolvable Dilaudid tablets as well as Fentanyl patches, he was loath to give Dean anything else so soon after giving him the Percodan. The clinic Manny had sent him to had had a pharmacy and while they might not need any of the stronger meds now, he couldn't pass them up when they were right in front of his face and easily accessible.

"Yeah…you blow me off now…..see how that attitude is in a couple of minutes." despite the chill in the room, Sam removed his long-sleeved shirt rather than roll up the sleeves. "Okay, stay with me, you hear? If it becomes too much for you, let me know, don't go jerking and flailing about….I might stab you or cut something I shouldn't."

"Huh?" his head came up, eyes blinking sleepily. "You wanna…stab me?"

"I don't….." Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of nose in exhaustion. Again, he'd never known a laser security beam to cause a burn and he still didn't know what to make of it. Lacking hot water and disinfectant soap, he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and began. He unwrapped the makeshift bandage, removed the gauze and gingerly dabbed on antiseptic wash with a fresh wad of gauze. Dean twitched, leg muscles tightening at the sudden sting. There was no bleeding - yet - for which Sam was thankful; the main concern was infection from damaged or dead skin. "Okay dude, let's just see how tough you really are." he took a breath and picked up the scissors.

Ten minutes later, he had Dean pinned to the floor, hand holding his protesting siblings jaw closed as he waited for the Dilaudid tablet he'd wrestled into Dean's mouth to dissolve and hoped the medicine wouldn't take more than thirty minutes to take effect.


	2. Chapter 2

It was after two a.m. when Sam finally sat down on his sleeping bag, bottle of whiskey dangling from limp fingers between his raised knees. Though exhausted, he didn't expect to get much sleep. Dean had passed out but wasn't settled. He'd be still for few moments then squirm, emit soft sighs and low moans then go limp. Sam had him on his belly and after several aborted attempts to roll over, he hunched his shoulders up to his ears and remained somewhat on his side, breathing noisily, whining softly, and snuffling tearfully.

When dawn finally broke, Sam had maybe an hour or so of sleep. He took a bottle of water from the cooler and went outside to brush his teeth and wash his face. He was gargling mouthwash when the first shriek split the peaceful morning, silencing the various birds; so much for the calm stillness surrounding him. There were no further sounds so he swished one last time, spit into the grass and headed inside.

Dumb ass had tried to stand up.

By the time he'd bullied Dean into drinking some water and taking another Dilaudid, the sun had broken the horizon. Dean didn't rouse so Sam didn't bother to tempt him with crackers for breakfast. He was hesitant, but he doubted the pain med would last until he got back, so he set two Vicodin's, a bottle of water and the cell phone within easy reach. He lingered until he was sure Dean was held under, then left to head to the marina Manny had directed him to.

When he parked the car at the harbor, it was mid-morning, the docks were active and he wasn't happy it had taken him as long as it had to drive to the harbor. Well, least the boats were all motorboats, not a sailboat could be seen at any of the docks. After reading up on boating and the rights and ways of ocean travel, Sam was no longer sure nesting in a boat was such a good idea. Still, despite his misgivings, here he was, at the marina, walking towards the office where he found Jim who was expecting him and greeted him cheerfully.

"Good Morning, Bub." Jim slapped him on the back of the shoulder. "Coffee? Manny said you'd be here early, still though, you're a couple of hours behind the fishermen….here got a to-go cup for you, how do you take it?"

"Cream please, thanks." Sam accepted the cup. He'd meant to arrive earlier, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to leave until Dean was still and quiet. He'd started out the door five times before managing to make it to the front porch. From there, it had taken him another half hour to walk to the car and it had taken him over an hour to finally get in the car and drive away. "Aah…Manny…."

"So, looking to get away from it all, huh? You and the little lady? Well, this way, come along…..you've got a distance to drive yet."

Sam blinked, drive? He followed Jim out of the office, down the dock, away from the harbor and towards the….parking lot? What the hell….?

"What the fuck is that?" Sam spit out, eyes watering from choking on a too large, too hot mouthful of coffee.

"It's a camper." Jim gave him a look, wondering if perhaps the boy's brains were addled. Manny hadn't told him much, had just said to give him what he asked for and to send him on his way, asking as few questions as possible. "You know, a travel trailer." the man was a lot younger than Jim had expected but he fit Manny's description, leaving little doubt this was the man he'd been told to aid. "Is there a problem?"

"I see that…I meant…." the camper was already hitched to a full-size pick-up truck with an extended cab. "I mean, I thought…what the hell I am supposed to do with that!?"

"Uh, you know, stay in it? Like, at a campground?" Manny hadn't even told him Sam's name and Jim was suddenly grateful he hadn't pushed for more information. He aided the occasional on-the-lam acquaintance of Manny's without ever knowing the reason of it or why. "KZ S318H, Sportsmen. Has a fridge, stove, sink, microwave, shower, toilet, TV with satellite, DVD player, stereo with satellite radio and internet connection." Jim opened the door and climbed the two steps and paused for Sam to follow.

Though rather cramped inside, Jim showed him how to operate the two slides that expanded the trailer once parked to give the occupants more room. There was a queen-sized bed to the right of the entry door and to the left was the kitchen area, then a set of bunk beds, which was the first 'slide'. On the opposite side, the side that was the second slide, was the sofa, the table, then the bathroom.

Sam just blinked, fuming silently; he was unable to process anything Jim was saying. He was going to find Manny and strangle him with his own two hands. No, better yet, hang him off the side of a building by his ankles and shake him until he screamed like a little girl. What the hell had the moron been thinking? Sam had finally convinced himself a boat would be acceptable and now this?

"So? What'cha thinking?"

"I don't know anything about campers, camping, or campgrounds." he blinked at tears, feeling absurdly like crying, dismay replacing anger. Why did everything in his life turn out differently than what he'd anticipated? He had finally reconciled himself to moving Dean to a boat, only to find he'd been misled and had wasted time reading up on boats and not campers. Would anything in his life _ever_ go right? "I've never towed anything that big either."

"Ain't hard, many campgrounds offer electric and water hook-ups. Most have vault toilets and showers as well as dump stations either on the grounds or nearby. Always a Laundromat and general store with propane refills and gas within a couple of miles too."

"How much?" he had a hundred and one questions to ask and that's what came out of his mouth? For Christ Sake, he didn't know the first thing about camper hook-ups, had no fucking clue what or where, a vault toilet was, had never heard of a dump station and the ability to understand how to operate anything inside the camper would remain beyond his capabilities for some time yet to come. Hell, he didn't even know how to drive the truck while towing the damn thing!

"Manny took care of it…..all you gotta do is pay the fees at the campground…and gas for the truck. Just need to let Manny know when to make arrangements to pick it up." he went on to give Sam a quick explanation of most appliances in the camper as well as what took what kind of energy. "Manny has you set up at the Viento State Park….here's a map with directions."

"So, propane feeds the hot water and the stove? Everything else is electric?" years of training and basic human instinct to overcome adversity and survive pushed aside his overwhelming feelings of inadequacies and allowed self-preservation to take control. "Which is supplied at the campground?"

"Yup, generator is here….we've added some upgrades….runs on gas….."

"Can you show me how to un-hitch and how to properly….park it?" there was no way in hell he was going to any campground where anyone knew he'd be staying. Nuh-huh. "And…..explain these hook-ups and the bathroom….you said it has a shower…..where does the water go?"

"Sure…sure….."

Forty-five minutes later, Sam was driving west, map of Oregon as well as the GPS on the windshield guiding him to the new campground he'd selected. He would need to buy groceries at a store where he could also buy some DVD's and a book or two to amuse Dean. Once he had the camper set up, he'd go back to the house and get Dean.

He'd considered taking Dean with him to the marina but he'd been so pale and uneasy, sweating heavily just from trying to roll over that Sam had decided to give him a few more hours to get some rest. It wasn't like he could wander anywhere in a feverish or drug-induced haze, even if he found the strength and gained the coordination to try, he wouldn't get far; he might manage to call a cab but he had no money, no possible means of getting more and no place to go.

Cash - they definitely needed to find some way to get some money. The truck guzzled gas and the campground demanded a week's fee upfront. They would both need to eat and there was still a possibility he'd need to take Dean to a clinic, if not an ER, at some point. One thing had become clear; there was no way in hell he was ok with leaving Dean alone in the camper at some remote campground for the length of time it would take him to drive to Whitefish and back. He simply couldn't – wouldn't do it.

That left him with an option he wasn't particularly happy with but he didn't really have another choice. He could and would find a local bar to hustle some pool or darts but that would only hold him over for a week or so, providing all he had to pay for was food and fuel. Paying cash for a visit to the clinic and any prescriptions or buying more meds off the street, should his supply he'd lifted from the clinic run out, would be expensive and would require cash he simply didn't have and had only one way of getting. He pulled his cell from his jacket pocket and thumbed speed dial for Bobby.

"Yeah?" came the gruff greeting, voice tinged with weariness.

"Hey Bobby."

"Sam." silence as Bobby waited for Sam to get to the reason he was calling. "So? Something up?"

"Aaah." he chewed on his lip, not sure how to ask without revealing why.

"Sam? I ain't got all day to be hearing you breathe in my ear….got me some things to do, you know? Such as….."

"Yeah, yeah…aah….Bobby…."

"How about you call me back when you can string together a sentence."

"No…..I…..it's Dean."

"What'd the damn fool go and do this time?"

"He's down."

"He ok?"

"Dunno….well, yeah….I mean no…..I…could…..he's…"

"What do you want from me Sam?" Bobby tossed the book he'd been reading and got up to go to the fridge for a beer.

"I need money."

"Aah….and you can't get it?"

"Not enough…."

Bobby heaved a tired sigh. Sam and his moods coupled with the looming threat over the world, yet again, really wore on Bobby's patience. He got it, he did, Sam was barely holding it together but he had to learn to put aside his selfishness and focus on what really mattered.

"Why not?" Bobby drawled, mentally searching for the nearest Western Union location and to recall whether he would have to sell some gold jewelry if didn't have as much cash as Sam wanted.

"There's no way I'm leaving him alone for two days."

"You have before. What makes this time so special?"

"Never when he's been hurt Bobby." Sam snapped defensively. "That's not fair."

Bobby took a moment…..just how hurt was he anyway and what kind of condition was he in that Sam wouldn't leave him alone? "Do you know what did it?"

"Yeah."

"You want me to wire it to you? Where you at?"

"Near Portland…but…"

"You got a place to stay?"

"Sorta….yeah…."

"He with you? Can I talk to him?"

"He's asleep Bobby."

"Yuh-huh…..Sam…" Bobby sighed, too tired to deal with more of Sam's same old shit. "Where is he Sam?" silence. "You want me to come meet you?" silence. "How much do you need?" the fact he hadn't protested Bobby inviting himself to join them curbed his tongue. Portland wasn't a two-day drive from Whitefish, well…..okay….let's see, a nine-hour interstate drive one way, kid would need to sleep a couple of hours, stops for gas….and they never traveled highways and interstates….so add a couple of hours each way and…..

"Uh…..a grand, I guess."

Bobby choked, beer dribbling down his chin. "Say what?!" he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his elbow. "Christ Sam!"

"I….he'll be okay alone for a couple of hours…I'll go out, see if I can find a bar to hustle pool at…..but….it won't be enough….we can't use the credit cards and if I have to take him to a doctor…"

"Whoa…whoa, wait up…..just a minute here….whad'ya mean…..doctor? Just how bad hurt is he?"

"I dunno…I…he's…..you know him Bobby, I haven't had time to force him….we….were here on a job….had to break into a warehouse with laser security…only the beam didn't set off an alarm when broken, it burned him….that…..slowed him up. We ran and I left him at a bar to go back and get the car. By the time I got back, he was out cold in the middle of a crowd in the parking lot. Someone took exception to his 'pretty face'. Seems…..fuck it, he wasn't in any condition to defend himself…."

"How badly was he burned? And when did it happen?"

"Yesterday….he….can walk, well hobble, on the leg, but he passed out when I tended it. He's being his usual self and ain't letting me close, doesn't want me anywhere near him." the fact Dean had been pale and sweating and shaking is what convinced Sam to leave him alone at the bar while he'd gone back for the car. He knew better and shouldn't have done that. Dean attracted women like sugar did ants. He wouldn't have had to even try, just sitting in the bar, looking as wan and ill as he had, would have been all it took to have every woman in the bar at his side. "I…aah, got…some stronger pain meds, some Silvadene….."

"How in the hell…?" Bobby started then just sighed. "You damn fools….okay…..you make do 'til I get there…gimme 'til late tomorrow….I gotta go pawn some of these here trinkets….you let me know he takes a turn for the worse….now, where is it I'm headed?"

Sam gave him the name of the town closest to the campground he'd chosen and hung up. Was only about an hour from the town where he'd left Dean behind, he couldn't bring himself to be gone any longer than four hours. He'd park the camper, retrieve Dean and take him out to the campground. He'd be comfortable, if confused in the camper and Sam would be with him until he was capable of comprehending where he was and why.

***000***

"Hey." Sam had returned to the vacant house, packed and loaded the truck, and now the only remaining item left to move was Dean and despite being able to lift and carry his brother when he had to, Sam had no desire to do it now. Lifting Dean as a dead weight from his supine position on the floor held no appeal and would require more strength and effort than Sam currently possessed. He snorted, pushing his hair back, tired as he was, he'd likely topple over and drop Dean on his head. "Dean….come on, get up…we gotta go…..you can sleep in the car ok?" well, least while Sam had been gone, Dean had found the strength to roll over.

Dean stirred with a soft grunt. Seemed he was doing that a lot lately, grunting with a groan every time he moved. Be it his arm, his leg or the simple motion of lifting his head - didn't matter - he hurt, moving hurt, breathing hurt, just _being_ hurt. His cheek rubbed against the deceptively soft nylon that hardly cushioned his battered and aching body from the hard, unforgiving floor. His nose wrinkled as he inhaled but the scent that assaulted his nostrils remained unrecognizable.

"Hey." the quiet voice was still talking. "Come on, wake up…."

He started to move on to his side, pulling his elbow under his rib cage in preparation to push himself upright, responding to the voice that was easily identifiable when his body revolted, a cry wrenched from his dry, swollen throat.

"Hey, hey, hey….easy…take your time…no hurry." Sam said quietly. "You ok?"

"Thammy?" he got out, fingers clawing their way from beneath the blanket that covered him up to his chin and fisting the sleeping bag beneath him. "Ow." he whined miserably, tongue itching along the roof of his mouth. Great, his eyes were filled with sand, his mouth with cotton, his nose with mold and his shoulder muscles were numb. Welcome to the land of the living – ugh.

"Yeah…you're ok….just chill and move slowly, okay?" Sam swallowed hard. Faced with the difficulty Dean was having trying to move, he felt his stomach twist into a tight knot. God, what if something was seriously wrong?

"Where we at?" move slowly, he could do that. He tested his body a second time by moving one finger, then another, first on one hand, then the other. Encouraged when he could make a fist, he turned completely on to his stomach, pulled his elbows under his chest and pushed himself up. "Drink?" he pulled his knees up and pushed his chest off the floor. He remained on his hands and knees on the sleeping bag, listing first to one side, then the other.

"Yeah, well, you're favorite quote of, 'it's my bottle, it's my whiskey and if I want, I'll drink it all' ain't gonna get you what you want this time." Sam smirked. "And if you dare to sing, 'ain't nobody, gonna tell me, I can't drink it all' I will drown you with it."

"Water?" he croaked, toes curling, searching for a grip on the slippery nylon beneath his bare feet. "Just…wat…er." he shivered, hand reaching out to grope about in a blind search for his shirt in the hope it'd been discarded nearby.

"Oh." Sam said stupidly, waiting for his wobbly sibling to kiss the floor. "Um…yeah…sure." he was glad Dean had yet to open his eyes. He needed a moment to hide his expression so Dean wouldn't be able to read the look of relief he had yet to wipe from his face. "Aah….." he moved forward then realized the cooler was already out in the truck. "You….." of course he was thirsty, he'd slept since yesterday and it was going on three o'clock. "Cold?"

"Yuh-hun."

Sam had to help him up from the floor and while Dean managed to stay on his feet, he didn't try to walk, not on his own anyway. Sam didn't know if it were a result of the meds or his brothers body's natural response to the trauma inflicted upon it, either way, he was not happy about Dean's lack of mobility. Not that it mattered. Well….it did, because if he were honest….Sam was freaked out.

Dean didn't let anyone, not even Sam close, keeping everyone at arm's length. Sam doubted sleepy-eyed Dean knew where he was, how much time had passed or that he'd allowed Sam to take care of him. Dean's attempt to walk ended after three steps with a howl, foot held off the floor, swaying on one leg, the solid warmth beside him the only reason he remained standing.

That muted howl of pain followed by a curse had Sam wincing in sympathy as they walked outside. Just another reason Herbie wouldn't see the dawning of a new year.

His ass perched on the lowered tailgate of the pick-up, Dean held a bottle of water and took sips under Sam's watchful eye. Man, he wished he remembered why he felt like he'd been tackled, thrown bodily to the group, stomped on and rolled around. He thought of the sleeping bag with distaste; he doubted his stiff, aching rebellious body was due to his lengthy nap on the floor.

"You good?" Sam asked after Dean had swallowed more water and set the bottle aside. "We should go." he held out a Henley shirt, waiting for him to take it, giving him a look of impatience when all Dean did was stare at it. "Dean?"

"Seriously?' he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "Dude…come on….."

"What?" Sam bantered back, tone slightly hostile. "It's clean….."

"I can't…." he gestured. "My arm….."

"Oh." Sam wadded the shirt up, leaned over the side of the truck bed and dug around in a duffel. "Here….try this one."

It was more a jacket then a button down shirt but it was warm and that's all Dean cared about. He was able to slide his right arm into the sleeve but his left shoulder balked at extending his arm behind him and he huffed his way through allowing Sam to help him on with the garment.

"Good?" Sam questioned. "Can we go now?"

"Can I have…..pants?" he waited, teetering as Sam again rooted through the duffel bag, teeth gritted. Why his obstinate brother couldn't just wrap up in a blanket was beyond Sam, wasn't like Dean would be going anywhere where he needed to be dressed.

"Do you need…..?" Sam began only to have the jeans snatched from his hands. He waited, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed as he watched Dean weave and bob, trying to hold on to both the truck and his jeans while trying to step into one leg. Sam was impressed when Dean managed to insert his left foot into the leg of his jeans but Sam knew before Dean ever tried, he'd never be able to put his weight on his bad leg and easily caught him when he fell. "Yeah…..I gotcha."

Dean slumped into the strong arms that came around him from behind and gently lowered him to the ground. It was so frustrating to not be able to get dressed by yourself.

"I can do it." Dean insisted stubbornly sitting on his ass, feet out in front of him, he tried again. Once both feet were through the legs, he accepted Sam's hand to gain his feet and pulled the jeans to rest on his hips. "Son-uva-bitch." he leaned against the side of the truck and wiped his face on his sleeve, light-headed and weak-kneed. "What the fuck you been giving me?"

"Now can we go?" Sam asked impatiently. "Aah….tried Percoden, but…" he caught the look sent his way. "What? Shut-up." the pills he'd left next to the sleeping bag had been gone when he'd returned. "Let's go."

"Just….." he sighed, the nearest acceptable tree was further away than he wanted to walk. "Need a moment." he tossed the empty bottle into the bed of the pick-up and pushed away from its support.

Sam followed his gaze to the huge pine tree and immediately voiced his protest. "Not that tree, use that one." he pointed to a slender tree just off the side of the driveway where the truck sat.

"Dude…some privacy…if I decide to taste the grass, come get me….otherwise, back off!"

Sam stepped forward, hand extended to offer assistance, turning both palms up in the universal show of hands-off when Dean bitch-slapped him. He watched with a smirk while Dean hobbled off on his own then hopped in the cab and started the truck. He doubted Dean would insist on driving but if he did, Sam wanted there to be no question who was in charge. He looked out the windshield and sighed. Dean hadn't made it to the pine tree, settling for a young maple half the distance away; pain meds were wearing off.

Dean zipped up and eyed the distance back to the truck when it finally registered that it was a truck waiting for him, not the clunker car he'd lifted. He took two steps and became one with the tree. There was no way he was going to make it back to the truck, not without a crutch. He looked around the ground, searching for a suitable tree limb that would service as a cane but nothing was satisfactory; nothing to do but hug the tree and wait for Sam to come get him.

Dean smirked, right on cue, ole hurricane Sammy coming right for him.

He hopped on one foot, unable to bear any weight at all on his bum leg, his teeth gritted against the jarring movement. He felt Sam hug him tighter with each grunt and groan that involuntarily escaped and Sam didn't even complain when Dean used his jacket to wipe the heavy sweat from his face caused by exertion.

Finally! The truck! He caught the open door and aided by Sam, hauled himself up into the cab. The bench backseat sang his name and he crawled between the front bucket seats into the back where he laid down with his trusty sleeping bag.

The fact was nothing he could do should Dean fall off the seat, didn't stop Sam from adjusting the rearview mirror to keep an eye on him before pulling out. The sooner he got back to the campground and got his brother settled in the comfort of a bed, the happier he would be. He needed to get him clean, and warm and comfortable. He also needed, and he was sure his brother would vehemently disagree, to get him undressed - _again_ \- and his injuries identified and categorized in order of seriousness.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean woke up, came to, gained consciousness, whatever, in the backseat, alone. Feeling no looming threat, he laid still and let his senses return to him. It was daylight, but towards late afternoon. The car wasn't moving, the radio on a classic rock station and the front windows were cracked to let in, cool, fresh air. The only other sound he could make out was the occasional passing vehicle on the road. Evidently Sam had returned but Dean didn't remember leaving with him and he had no clue where the hell Sam was now.

When sleep didn't reclaim him and Sam didn't return, he gathered himself to sit up. He didn't make it. Stomach muscles required to pull him upright, scrunched up and screamed their protest, prompting every joint and tendon and muscle within his body to join their tantrum. He gasped; eyes squeezed shut, head thumping against the seat as he gritted his teeth, locked his jaw and struggled to contain the cry of agony trying to erupt from his throat. He lost.

Panting, one hand gripping the seat to his left, the other knuckling the seat to his right, he gave up trying to move and redirected his energy into figuring out where he was and why. Gradually, his head cleared, the dancing black dots receded to the far edges of his vision and he was able to look upwards and gaze out the window. It appeared he was in a parking lot of some sort and when his ears picked up the sound of a rattling cart across pavement, he deemed it was some sort of grocery store; so Sam was shopping.

He licked his lips; throat dry and swollen from his screaming fit then rolled his head, cheek against the seat, to look at the floor in search of water. He let go of the seat to flail about with his hand, uttering a whimper when he found nothing. Deep guttural grunts accompanied each pat of his hand and he finally gave up, letting his fingers dangle to the floor.

"Hey." the truck jostled as weight was put into the bed then the driver's door opened. "You awake?" Sam's head popped between the front seats. "How you feeling?"

"Like…..shit."

"Sound like shit….sounding kinda hoarse there, Dean, what'cha been doing? Screaming?" he joked with a grin, face falling when Dean's eyes closed and he again licked at his lips with a cracked, white tongue. "Oh, fuck dude…what'd you try-n-do?" he rummaged around in a bag he's just sat on the passenger seat and withdrew a bottle of cold water. "I was gone, like ten minutes. Why couldn't you just stay asleep?" he twisted around to guide his brother's hand to the bottle. "Got it?" yup, time for more pain meds. "Dean…..I…hey…." he gained his knees and knelt between the seats to support Dean's attempt to raise his head and drink. More water slopped down his chin to his chest then he actually swallowed but neither of them cared. "Okay….can you swallow…hey, hey, hey….take these." his fingers sought the reassuring pulse along his brother's throat. "Just…..swallow."

"Where…..?"

Straws, they were going to need straws. "Yeah….I, aah, gotta run back into the store…be right back…don't you fucking move." he hesitated, taking a moment to watch Dean breathe and wait for his breaths to even out and his cheeks to regain their lost color before climbing off his knees and turning to exit the truck.

"Sammy….." he gasped with a deep groan. His head came off the seat but he couldn't clear his shoulders. "Mmmm….." a cry of pain had Sam turning back and Dean curling up, arms holding his stomach.

"Dean!" Sam opened the back door at his brother's feet and climbed in, one knee kneeling on the seat, the other on the floor. "DEAN! Hey! Talk to me….what's wrong?!"

"My…..stomach…..God…."

"Let me see." he recalled Dean being touchy when he'd checked him over the prior night. "Hey….let me…..see." he shoved his brother's legs apart and pried his arms from their tight hug across his belly. "Hey, hey….it's ok…just me…let me see…..ain't gonna hurt you…"

"Been….getting worse….." despite the cool air coming through the windows, he was hot and he found the bottle of water bottle and held it against his forehead. His face was devoid of color and he sweated heavily but he didn't appear confused or disoriented.

"How long has your belly hurt?" Sam demanded. "Why the hell didn't you say something?"

"Don't….didn't…feel…so good…."

Sam didn't even try to touch his brother's belly once he was finally able to work his shirt free. He could see it was distended and slightly swollen. Great, could be an injury to his spleen or liver or pancreas or anything from blunt force trauma. He still wasn't sure what all had happened at the bar….could have been hit in the belly with a freaking crowbar for all he knew.

"Okay, that's it…I'm dropping you off at the ER, you were playing football with a bunch of rowdy drunks, you hear me? And keep your mouth shut about the burn on your leg and no, you haven't been taking any medication….hey, you listening to me? Just say you suffered a blunt force injury to your belly….okay? Dean, hey…you with me?"

Dean tried to recall what had happened to make him feel the way he did…which was like shit….but his memory remained elusive. Wouldn't be hard to ignore the doctor's questions at the ER…wait…what?

"No." he bit his lip to keep the moan from escaping. "No…no….no hospital…..I'm okay Sammy."

"Dammit Dean." he grabbed Dean's chin and held his head still, forcing him to make eye contact. "You are not ok!" he crawled out of the backseat and slammed the door shut. Dean tensed, gagging on a mouthful of saliva he couldn't swallow. He raised his arm, choking into the crook of his elbow, jerking with a startled gasp when the truck rocked as Sam flung himself into the driver's seat.

He started the truck, used the GPS to locate the nearest hospital, noticed the message light on the dash-board OnStar and promptly ignored it. What the fuck? It could wait, he had more important things to take care of then worry about how to work GM's OnStar service.

They were a twenty-minute drive from the hospital and it happened to be in the direction of the campground. Good, 'cause there was no way in hell he was letting his brother be admitted to the hospital. Well, unless he required surgery but he - _prayed_ \- whatever injury his brother had suffered wasn't that severe. "Dean? Hey, come on…sorry, but you gotta get up."

"Why?" he slapped at the hand shaking his shoulder. "Knocket-off!"

"Cause we're here."

"Lemme be."

"You can't stay here." Sam snapped impatiently.

"Why not? I have before."

"Cause we're at the fucking hospital! Now move…..dammit, just come on!"

"I'm not going." Dean insisted. He supposed he should attempt to make his voice stronger and less breathless if he hoped to convince Sam he didn't need a doctor. "Let's just go to the motel, let me sleep for a while."

Sam sat and seethed; the truck in park and idling. If Dean refused to get out of the truck and walk into the hospital, Sam's only choice would be to drag him. While he knew without a doubt he was capable of doing so, he also knew forcing Dean into the ER would only attract attention they didn't need or want. He considered whether he'd be able to guilt trip Dean into getting his own way, but this was one time he was pretty sure he wouldn't succeed in manipulating his brother.

"If you could stand upright on your own, I would throttle you." Sam pealed out of the parking lot, sending Dean sliding off the seat with a cry. "Keep your ass on the seat Dean…."

With a muted cry, Dean squirmed back on to the seat, hands braced against the back of Sam's seat. He didn't know what was so wrong with the floor, least he wouldn't fall from there. He might have drifted off or the ride might have been that short, he doubted he'd ever know, but next thing he knew, he was staring up at Sam who was hanging over him upside down.

"Get out of the truck." ok, so he'd somehow gone and pissed off Sam. Best not to do or say anything that would anger him further. He carefully slid down the seat feet first until his legs were out the open door, then gripped the door frame and the backseat cushion and pulled himself upright.

Sam had come around the truck and now stood at Dean's feet, waiting for the cry of pain, but Dean kept his discomfort to a strangled grunt. He eased his ass off the seat and finally stood on his right leg, hand going from door frame to Sam for support.

"Can you walk, you think?" Sam doubted he'd get an affirmative answer, not the way Dean was swaying; he could feel him shaking against him.

"Yeah." he swallowed a grunt. "Aah…how far?

"Couple steps, we're parked close….come on…..nope….just….that's it…two steps…..yup….okay….bed's to your right." Sam coaxed a woozy, unstable Dean from the truck and into the camper where Dean let go of Sam and fell on his back across the bed. He didn't have on shoes or socks and he wiggled out of his jeans and tossed his shirt. He rolled about until he was able to pull the blankets from beneath him, found the pillow and buried himself under the comforter. "Hey! What the hell are you doing?" Sam scolded, tugging the comforter free. "You know Dean….." he began as Dean swatted at his hands. "Stop that."

"God….just leave me alone."

"Can't." he grabbed a foot and dragged a squirming Dean to the side of the bed. "Just need a couple minutes, okay? Wanna take a look at your leg?"

"Didn't you just do that?" he whined, rubbing at his eyes. "It's fine….barely itches." he yawned, pulling the comforter across his chest. "Cold."

"Itches? What do you mean, it itches?"

"Itchy. Not scratch an itch itchy…but itches." he tried to pull his foot free as he began to feel some serious discomfort. "Why you wanna make it hurt? Stop….Sammy…..stop."

"This hurts?" all Sam was doing was holding Dean's heel in his hand. Yeah, his fingers had a tight grip so Dean couldn't pull free but in no way was it enough force to cause any pain.

"Go - a - way!"

Sam sat down on the bed and un-wrapped the bandage he'd applied to cover and protect the burn. Dean didn't like his leg being touched and no amount of comforting words in a soothing tone got him to settle down. Sam was determined to wrestle his elder brother into allowing him his way until one look at his face revealed wet lashes and he caved.

"Yeah…hey…here….take this. Yeah I know, you just took two, just one more, then you can sleep." he needed a shower, something to eat and his laptop. Dean was going to sleep so Sam gathered what he'd need and set off to explore the campground and find the bath house to shower. By the time he returned, Dean would be under the influence of the both the pain meds he'd taken within an hour and Sam would be able to take a peek at the burn and reapply the burn ointment if there were no signs of infection.

***000***

"Motel?" Dean murmured. "Smells…..funny…." he kicked weakly at the blanket covering his legs, feeling confined. His hands inched out, feeling along the mattress to confirm it was indeed a mattress he lay upon. He knew he was warm and comfortable but confusion clouded his judgment and his ability to think straight and reason reality eluded him.

"Yeah…..just…go back to sleep…okay?" the voice came from some distance away. Sam.

"Guess." he was quiet. He didn't recall making any noticeable sound, but the mattress dipped when a heavy weight settled next to his hip. He tensed but couldn't stop his body from rolling forward into the indentation in the mattress. "You…goin'….out?"

"No." Sam bent over and picked a pillow up from the floor, putting it back on the bed. "I'll be here." Vicodin was holding him roughly three hours and Sam toyed with the idea of forgoing it and putting him on Dilaudid.

Dean was quiet and Sam eventually got up, causing Dean to stir, missing the warmth beside him. He started to get up, got to his hands and knees then thought better about moving and went face first into the pillow, gently going down on his belly before easing on to his side, eyes closing as he listened to the sounds of Sam moving about the room. Something just didn't seem right, seemed off, but he didn't know what nor did he have the energy or gumption to find out. He gave a moment or two to the matter of trying to recall what had gone on the past day or so but his mind remained blank.

"What's the matter?" Sam asked. "Gotta get up?"

"Cold."

Sam tossed the blanket from the truck over him then sat at the small table, popping grapes into his mouth as he waited for his brother to resettle and go back to sleep, bottle of Vicodin on the table. It was going on eleven o'clock and he supposed he should give Bobby a call and let him know about Dean's turn for the worse. He felt exhausted, his body demanding respite, and still, he didn't feel the need to sleep. Maybe he should go lie down, see if sleep came and hope Dean slept through the night. Before he could make any decisions regarding either the Vicodin or going to bed, his cell rang.

"Hey Bobby."

"I wake you?"

"Watching TV."

"How you doin?"

"I'm okay."

"You sure about that? You get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah….sure….yeah…I did." he easily lied. "I'm good."

"Yuh-huh, you've gotta get some sleep, kid…..how's your brother?"

"He's asleep."

"On his own or under the influence? Percodan holding him ok?"

"Oh." he was silent, Bobby waited him out. "No."

"No? What'd'ya mean, no? What the hell you got him on then?"

"I don't know a lot about burns Bobby, but I know they're painful and he took a serious beat-down."

"Meaning what?"

"I told you I'd gotten some stronger…"

"And what is it?"

"Vicodin holds him about three hours, but for me to do anything with that leg, for him to even let me touch it….."

"Morphine." Bobby guessed. Well, he wasn't really happy with that, but it'd only be for another day or two. Dean wouldn't be content to remain medicated once he started feeling better.

"No, Dilaudid."

Sam winced at the string of curses and insults to assault his ear. Really, he hadn't known Bobby knew so many languages to curse in. Some, he didn't know, others he recognized the language but not the specific words.

"You damn fool." Bobby finally wound down. Hell and damnation, no wonder Sam had refused to leave Dean alone for the length of time it would have taken him to drive to Montana. "Flat out Sam, tell me now…is there any possible injury from having his ass kicked?"

"Yeah." he rubbed his forehead, pad of his thumb massaging his eye. Deprived of sleep, he was worn out. Missing meals, lack of decent food, anger at Herbie and concern for his brother had left him strung out and stressed. "I dunno Bobby. I just assumed this Herbert jumped him at the bar 'cause his girl was all over Dean, you know? But now, I kinda get the feeling he knew who Dean was."

"Sam…..when did you get back to him at the bar?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you said when you got there he was unconscious in the parking lot…..was this Herbert guy gone or did your arrival scare him off? What if you hadn't gotten there when you did?"

"Dunno, can't shake the feeling that somehow this all wasn't just a coincidence, you know? No one at the bar should have paid any attention to him."

"Looking as how you said he did, ain't no wonder Sam. Women from ten to eighty take one look at him…"

"Yeah, that's just it Bobby, he didn't pick anyone up, he was in a lot of pain, women were not on his mind." Sam picked up the TV remote and hit mute, ears straining to pick up any noise. "And even if some girl hit on him, he wouldn't have taken her up on it, so why would this guy get all bent out of shape and beat the crap outta him?"

"Iffin his woman took a shining to Dean….."

"I didn't see any woman all over him when I got back, course, he was unconscious in the parking lot, but still, guess there could have been a fuss over him, you know?" Sam unfolded himself from the table and stood up to stretch. "But there wasn't, not when I got there anyway, everyone was just standing around…..almost like they were afraid to approach him. You're right, what if I hadn't gotten back when I did?" he felt sick.

"So, you're saying someone – Herbert – knew who he was and went after him?" Bobby reasoned. He was tired and wanted to go to bed. He could figure this all out when he was with Sam. "How did you find out what happened and that this Herbert was responsible?"

"Wondering about it, yeah. Bartender and one of the waitresses had no problem telling me what happened. Herbert was gone but I found out who he was. I'm trying to find more out about the guy; I'd like to know why before I …"

"Before you what?" Bobby demanded, interrupting. "Sam? The hell? Something going on you haven't told me about? How bad is the burn anyway?"

"Bad enough…..hurts him. He was bitching that his belly hurt. I wanted to take him to the ER, actually went but couldn't get him outta the car. I'll keep an eye on it, there's some swelling…not severe, try to limit his activity, which, with that leg is a good thing…..I dunno. Oh, hey, Bobby…..let me go….he's up."

"Alright….look…get some sleep…..I'll be there late tomorrow afternoon…..hang tight 'til I get there." Bobby hung up and tossed the phone. He looked up at the clock; 11:30. A nine or so hour drive to the boys, if he left now…..he sighed, he was too old for this shit. If he left now, he might have to pull off the road for an hour or two of sleep, but he could still be there with them by lunch.

He didn't need to hear Sam admit he was tired. He knew it, he knew that kid, knew he was having a difficult time since...well since Cas had...Aww, screw it. Dean might be fine, might not be, he didn't know and didn't want to wait to find out. And Sam...oh well, who needed a good night's sleep? A warm, comfy bed was for wimps. He got up, packed a bag with a change or two of clothing, collected a road atlas, his bag that contained weapons and cash and headed out of the cabin. He'd grab some coffee and a sandwich when he stopped for gas.

Sam dropped his phone on the table and walked down the small hallway to the bedroom. "Hey…you need something? I'll get it….just stay put."

"Hafta….get…up."

"Oh." Sam hesitated, trying to decide whether to let Dean use the camper's bathroom or make him walk over to the campgrounds bath house. "Okay…." it was dark and rain threatened so it made more sense to keep Dean indoors. "Straight back on your right."

Dean sat on the bed, blinking as he looked around with a frown. He carefully got to his feet and tested his leg before deciding it would bear his weight as long as he kept hold of something solid to support himself.

"Dude…..what the fuck?" he blinked, rubbed his eyes on his shoulder, blinked some more, then squinted. "Seriously, what the hell?"

"Don't say it…."

"Are we…..I mean….is this….what the….a _camper_?"

"Travel trailer." Sam corrected. "Don't." he held a hand up. "Just don't." he added wearily. "Please, don't start with me."

"How?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Yeah Sam, it matters! How the hell did you get this? Where? I….."

"Oh, now you feel up to talking? Ok fine, what the hell happened at the bar? I left you for, like twenty minutes Dean, all you had to do was sit at a table and wait for me to come back!"

"Can't hear so well." Dean muttered, ducking his head. "Got a headache."

"Sure." Sam snorted derisively. "He knew who you were, didn't he?"

"Dunno what you're talking about."

"Yeah, right….how you feeling anyway?"

"Not to good Sam…surprise." in fact, the longer he was standing, the dizzier he became. The bathroom just had to be on the opposite end of the camper, which in his present state, was a football field away. "Shit."

"Come on. Need…?"

"Get the fuck away from me!"

Oh yeah, this was the Dean he knew and loved anyway. Sam backed away with a smirk and let Dean make his own way, following him until they passed the sofa where he took a seat.

"To flush, there's a pedal, you step on it!" Sam called after him mockingly. Good luck with that, there was little in the way of support for Dean to rely on should he manage to balance on one foot. And if he did manage it, there was little chance of him being able to use his left foot to exert enough force to depress the pedal.

"Fuck you!" came the faint retort.

"Hey, you hungry? Can make you a sandwich or some soup, you really should eat something. I'd feel better if you did. It's been a couple days since you've…." he heard a thud, waited for the curse and got up and headed back when none came. "Dean?"

The bathroom consisted of; toilet, sink and small tub. No cabinets, no counter and unless Sam wanted to stand in the bathtub, no room for a second person.

"Dean…hey, if you need to flush, just close the lid and sit….oh…wait, what side is the pedal on? Dean?" he used his finger tips to pull the door back. "You…what the fuck? Dude, you pissing blood?"

"Maybe?" he perched on the narrow tub, knees bumping against the sink. "Think so…mmmm…Christ, I feel like shit."

"You think so?" Sam echoed with wide eyes, nostrils flared in irritation. "Maybe? Dean, come on! I don't need to get up in the morning and find you haven't woken up!"

"Oh, quit your fussing." he looked around for a wash cloth. "Geesch! I don't feel good Sam, that's all, lay off!"

"Quit my…..? I'm going to smother you while you sleep." Sam seethed.

"Wow, you really get cranky when you don't get enough sleep." Dean gathered his strength and with various hand holds, gained his feet. "Put you down for a nap….."

"Go..Back..To..Bed." Sam slurred the order into one word. "If you exhibit one sign of shock, show any more bruising, run a fever, get a nose bleed or puke blood, I will _drag_ your ass to the nearest hospital, you understand me?"

"Aye-aye, Sir Grumpy."

"You want anything to eat?" he stood back to allow Dean's staggering gait from the bathroom. "I can…hey…no, not the sofa, go back to bed."

"Not hungry and quit hovering."

"I want you to eat something and take…"

"Sam…." he heaved a tired sigh. "Enough….just leave me be…'kay?"

"Fine." he held his hands up and stepped back. "Pass out on the sofa…"

"Prick." Dean painfully hobbled his way back to bed, pale and sweating by the time he made the final four steps and collapsed on the bed. "Fuck." he wiped his face on the blanket. His moment of clarity along with his burst of energy deserted him and he willingly took the pills from the palm of the out-stretched hand and soon drifted off.

Sam washed up the few dishes at the small sink. He'd just reached the decision to go take a hot shower when a feeling of unease slithered across his shoulders and crept down his spine. He turned the water off, ears straining to pick up any unnatural sound. All he heard were night crickets, tree frogs and the occasional grunt from Dean. He wiped his hands on a napkin, made a mental note to go shopping for towels and a couple of blankets then picked up a flashlight and made his way outside.

He circled the camper, keeping it within sight at all times but he found nothing suspicious. He checked the truck, he'd disabled the GPS device but the OnStar light still blinked. He finally returned to the camper, decided he didn't need a shower after all and after checking to make sure his brother still slept, swallowed a couple ibuprofens and crawled into the bunk at the rear of the camper, his sleeping bag his only blanket against the chill. He'd have to find out how to work the heat come daylight.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam jerked awake, disoriented and confused. He'd slept because his body demanded it but it hadn't been soundly nor restful. At first he didn't know where he was and flailed about until he sat up and whacked his head on the bunk above him so hard, bursts of white light illuminated the darkness around him.

He fell back on the mattress, cursing under his breath because one; he hadn't slept very long since it was still dark outside, and two, he should have taken the top bunk. The roof of the trailer was undoubtedly softer than the bunk bed frame.

He flopped over to sprawl on his belly, sleeping bag pulled up to his ears as he listened for the sounds of whatever might have woken him up. Minutes later, his feet cold, he curled up on his side so he could keep them tucked under the sleeping bag.

And there it was. The sound he would never be able to sleep through; Dean whuffing and puffing, beginning to stir in his sleep, signs that he'd soon be awake, no longer held under by pain meds.

Rolling to his back, he raised his left arm and used his right hand to press the button on his watch to light the face and read the dial. Three hours, he'd been asleep for three hours. That'd be about right, pain meds were wearing off – again. Well, damn, if he was cold, Dean would be freezing. Sure, he had an extra blanket, but Sam doubted it was enough to ward off the damp chill that had settled within the camper. Picking up his flashlight, he got out of bed and went to give his brother some more pain meds.

"What?" Dean moved away, holding tight to his blanket when he felt it being tugged away from him. "Sam, don't….m'leg's fine."

"Whatever….just take these so I can get some sleep."

"Me? I take….what?" he was groggy, voice thick. "Sam….."

"You, it's you Dean, you're keeping me awake….."

"How'm…..?" he buried his face under his pillow. "Get lost."

"Please?"

Dean shoved the pillow and raised himself up on his elbow. "Find…. some Advil PM or something…..take a couple." he yawned sleepily. "I sleep just fine, you lemme 'lone."

"Right." Sam handed him two pills and some water. "And your leg doesn't hurt and your belly's fine and you're feeling no pain….go without these meds and tell me how fine you are."

"I hate you." he muttered crossly. "Go 'way."

Sam remained standing next to the bed, trying to decide if he felt up to fighting Dean over being allowed to check his leg and wrestle him into submitting to having the burn tended with both hot water and antiseptic wash. Dean made the decision for him, turning his back to Sam and disappearing under the covers.

"Whatever." Sam yawned, cracking his neck as he rotated his aching head. Switching the flashlight off, he padded back to his bunk. Maybe if the pain meds held Dean for another three hours, he'd been able to sleep off his headache.

***000***

Bobby couldn't believe his boys were camping in a camper at a campground. He'd laughed when Sam had told him where they were staying but then realized Sam was serious and hadn't known what to say. Had he been thinking, he might have thought to ask how Sam had come about both a camper and a pick-up but he'd been too startled to do more than nit-pick at the poor boy. He knew those boys and neither had any idea what to do with a camper.

The town was easy to find, the campground easily located. There were seven campers at the park and after eliminating the ones with bicycles, those without a vehicle parked next to it and any with kids toys, he had two to choose from. Well, might as well start with the thirty-footer.

He parked the car, shouldered his bag and knocked on the door, standing off to one side. Never good to be confronted face-to-face when you don't know who or what you might be facing. The door opened and Bobby stepped into view, expecting Sam to greet with him either a knife or gun in his hand. He was completely caught off guard to see Dean, wrapped in a blanket, swaying in the doorway holding only a water bottle.

""Ob—bby? What're you doin' here?" he blinked against the sun light. "Hey."

"Where's your brother?" Bobby stepped forward, forcing Dean to back up.

"He's somewhere." Dean hopped backwards on one leg as Bobby crowded him and entered the camper, closing and locking the door behind him. "Sleeping, probably, I…think…."

"Didn't expect you to be up and around."

"I'm…." he paused with a frown. "Had to pee, was thirsty…let him sleep ok?" he made his way back to the entertainment console behind which was his bed. Bobby moved to take his elbow and give him support. His mouth dropped open in shock when his offer was accepted but he said nothing. He hadn't been expecting such calm acceptance; had expected to be firmly rebuffed, both physically and verbally.

"Sure…no problem." Bobby dropped his bag on the sofa. "You boys have something against heat?" when he received no response, he peeked around the console to see Dean had crawled into bed. Leaving him be, he walked to the back of the camper to locate Sam, needing to see the boy with his own eyes. Satisfied when he saw him sprawled in the bottom bunk, he decided to get busy and put what he could to rights. First thing to do was properly connect the camper to the water and electricity supplied by the campground and turn the heat on. Then unload the grocery bags that sat on the counter and the cooler that was on the floor.

He was outside correcting the way Sam had anchored the camper, muttering that Sam hadn't been completely honest with him about how he truly felt when he heard a twig snap and the sounds of nature went silent. Hefting a wrench, he slowly straightened from his crouch, put his back to the camper and took a visual look around. Seeing nothing, he started to walk in the direction of the truck and car, circling the camper, looking for foot prints, broken twigs or other evidence that someone had been in the area but found nothing. Finishing what he'd gone outside to do, he headed back inside the camper, finding Sam awake and sitting at the table, laptop in front of him.

"Sam, thought you were getting some sleep." Bobby squeezed himself into the seat at the table across from Sam. "Go back and get some more…won't do you harm to lie down for a while longer."

"In a bit. I'm okay Bobby, really." he gave the older hunter a genuine smile. "Thanks for the electric and heat, thought I had it going but did something wrong…yesterday was a blur. Thought I'd take care of it this morning since I didn't expect you until later today."

"Yeah well, you got a lot on your plate." he drawled, looking the kid up and down, up and down, then up. He knew had Sam been feeling well, he'd have had no problem hooking up the electric and water or turning on the heat. "He's ok Sam…go get back to bed." he paused, seeing for the first time, the shadows surrounding the younger man's red-webbed eyes. "You been getting any sleep at all?"

"Last night, yeah."

"Uh-huh…." his lips thinned. "You've got a lot going on Sam…..you hadda look after Dean, I know that, but hell, can't let yourself suffer for it."

"I'm not….." he shrugged then sighed. "Okay, yeah…..got a lot on my mind and sleep isn't coming easily, but….Itook something last night once Dean was down, slept for a couple of hours."

"You lift something when you stole all those pain meds?"

"I didn't steal…" he began half-heartedly out of habit, too tired to really care about the accusation.

"Yeah, you did. Dunno how or from where, just like I don't know yet how you came about this camper or truck…."

"Advil PM Bobby, it's over-the-counter."

"It strong enough?"

Sam shrugged, getting up to make a pot of coffee. Bobby reached across the table to turn the laptop around.

"What are you so interested in? What's this?"

"He's awake….go see what he wants." Sam blew him off. "You want some coffee?"

"Was thinking about lunch?" Bobby wiggled himself from the booth with a snort. Travel trailer, camper, call it whatever, it was too damn small, too cramped and too confined. Though he had to admit the campground was remote, quiet and isolated. He stepped around the entertainment counsel to find Dean sitting up, feet on the floor but apparently still undecided whether to get up. He shot a sideways glance at Bobby then sighed.

"What the hell are you doing here?" his voice was still thick with sleep, eyes hooded. He hadn't been awake long and how Sam had known he'd sat up would be forever beyond Bobby who crossed his arms over his chest and slouched against what served as the doorway. Well, look-it that, there was even a door.

"Nice to see you too." he retorted gruffly, not bothering to comment on the fact it had been Dean who had greeted him at the door and let him in. "Looking like shit there Dean….what'cha been doing?"

"Mmmm…." he rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head. "Anything to drink?"

"Water!" yelled Sam.

"Damn kid has ears like Jamie Summers." Bobby muttered, offended Sam would think he'd actually give his brother with the grey pallor any kind of alcohol whatsoever. He didn't need to be told the pain meds Sam had said he was giving Dean were not to be mixed with liquor. "You getting up?"

"Thinking about it."

"And…you're feeling how good?"

Dean flipped him off but didn't retort nor did he attempt to rise from the bed. "Maybe not."

Sam was behind Bobby, bottle of water in one hand, bottle of orange juice in the other. "Hey….." two hours, Vicodin was now holding him two hours. It was probably time to admit defeat and give up on it. He had Diluadid and morphine, might as well just pick one and go with it. "How you feeling?"

"Been better." he swallowed hard, jaw quivering. "Water…..?"

"Yeah…." Sam handed the bottle to Bobby who removed the cap and kept a hand wrapped over Dean's when he took it and raised it to his mouth. "So, feeling any side effects from the meds yet?"

"Go away." Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still trying to decide if he _really_ needed to get up.

"Hey Bobby, while he's up…well, awake, take a look at his belly…..he's rather touchy about it, pissing blood now."

"And still, no doctor?"

Sam shrugged.

"He tell you?" Bobby removed his hat to scratch at his head. "How's his leg looking?"

"Can't hide much being so close here." Sam shook his head. "No, he…..guess he…well, I heard a thud while he was in the bathroom….I opened the door….toilet's white, no way to miss orange water."

"HEY!" Dean protested. "Do you mind?"

"Haven't seen his leg since last night." Sam ignored him. "Doesn't want me fooling with it. Had to knock him out before he'd let me anywhere near him."

"Damn fools…..Dean, lemme see."

"Get away from me." he growled, turning sideways to avoid the eight hands Bobby had suddenly grown.

"Dean….seriously, you slept like two hours, the meds aren't strong enough to hold you…." Sam frowned. "You aren't looking so good. How you feeling?"

"I'm in pain Sam! You happy now? You feel better? It fucking hurts!"

Sam nodded, not at all upset by the outburst. "Just wondering. I've got something stronger….."

"I don't want morphine."

"It's not."

"No."

"Then lie back and let me change the bandage on your leg."

Bloodshot eyes shot him a look that promised bodily harm if he even tried to take another step closer to the bed.

"Not playing here Dean. You can't risk an infection. In your weakened state it would land you in the hospital. I can't give you IV meds."

"Why are you so mean?" his lower lip shimmied and he steadied it between his teeth.

"You need to have the burn ointment applied twice a day…." Sam began patiently, feeling his ire begin to build when Dean narrowed his eyes and looked down his nose at him. "Don't blow me off! You…."

"Leave it here and go away, I'll take care of it." he said dismissively, wanting to be left alone.

"Not a chance." Sam stated bluntly. "You're going to let Bobby see your belly and you're going to suffer through that leg being tended."

"For the love of…" he blew out an exasperated breath that turned into a cry of pain. "Guh!" he doubled over, nearly falling off the bed. Bobby pushed him back by his shoulders until he laid down, pulling his feet up on the bed. "Fuck." he rubbed his face along the mattress until he had his head buried under the pillow and blocked from view. "God…"

"Okay." Sam frowned. "That's it."

"Sam…" Bobby began, warming up to a heated warning but Sam put his hand up to ward him off.

"I've had enough Bobby; he can take Vicodin and Diluadid at the same time."

"Maybe so, but I don't recommend it." Bobby argued. "Not good Sam, not good at all."

"No, I meant, give him the Diluadid now so we can take a look at his leg. I won't give him any more Vicodin, it's not holding him. I just gave him some about two hours ago."

"You sure? I still wanna see his belly. Any other issues?"

"Give him half an hour and you can to whatever the hell you want to him." Sam said wryly. "Uh, belly hurts, left shoulder…he didn't do anything to dislocate it or wrench it….haven't tried ice and he hasn't asked for any."

"He dizzy when he gets up?"

"No."

"He breathing okay?"

"Other than panting, yeah."

"His pulse?" Bobby rubbed at his jaw. "Heart rate normal?"

"Was yesterday."

Dean had no idea how many days had passed since the botched job and until he started to feel better, he didn't care. He was tired and sore and he hurt and sleep was his only relief and now Sam and Bobby wanted to intrude and ruin that for him as well. He'd had enough, he'd put up with all he was going to; anyone came near the bed and he was gonna start swinging.

"When did he last have something to eat?" Bobby was asking, pulling Dean's attention back.

Sam thought about it, frowning as he searched his tired brain for recollection. "Aah, day before yesterday? Maybe, I think? Hell, Bobby, I don't know….he's had nothing today or yesterday…."

"And you?"

"Last night." it'd only been grapes but Bobby didn't ask and Sam saw no need to tell him.

"Dean? Don't suppose you're hungry?"

"Nuh-uh." he burrowed under the comforter and blanket until he was completely covered.

"No, you don't." Sam tried to dig him out but Dean successfully combatted his attempts. "Dean, hey come on…just….here….open up." he coaxed, giving up trying to relieve him of his blankets. "Okay, ok, I'll leave you be, just need you to take this…..Right…NO! Hey, don't swallow! Just hold it under your tongue, let it dissolve….."

"That's some pretty strong shit Sam…." Bobby began, pausing when Sam shrugged.

"Wait until you see his leg." Sam said quietly. "I also have morphine, but it's injectable and I hate to subject him to a needle unless I hafta."

"That all you got?"

"No, got Fentanyl patches too."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Bobby yelped. "Dammit Sam!" it boggled his mind, not that Sam had four of the strongest pain meds on the market, but that he'd had access to them. Each in a different form, pills, dissolvable tablets, injections and patches. Good Christ, the kid must have knocked over a pharmacy! "How did you get it all?"

"Broke into a clinic."

"And it just happened to have a pharmacy, just like that, huh?" Bobby said doubtfully. "And oh, that's right, also happened to have medication for bad burns."

"What do you want me to say Bobby?"

"I want you to tell me how you knew where to find that clinic and how you got this camper and that truck when you couldn't come up with cash."

Sam was quiet. The way he ducked his head and lowered his eyes to stare at the floor twisted Bobby's gut and he cursed himself out silently. Best to back off and give Sam space, easiest way to do that, was to get the kid talking about his brother.

"Sam, he's sleeping a lot. Pain meds don't make you sleep, a person can usually function on pain meds, you giving him sedatives as well?"

"No…he always sleeps a lot when he's hurt, you know that….it's all he does and I let him 'cause he needs it. It's one of the ways a body recovers….." Sam explained, though Bobby knew all that. "And yeah, pain meds can make you sleepy."

"Now, don't go getting all defensive, just asking. I'm guessing you have antibiotics as well, case he gets an infection?"

"Yeah." he massaged the back of his neck. "I dunno Bobby, it's not just the meds, he….."

"Okay, ok, ain't judging you Sam. Let's take a look at that leg."

"You still wanna see his belly? Do it first, 'cause I'm gonna make him roll over."

Dean stirred when he felt the chill of cool air across his shoulders and chest. He tried to resist, but his arms wouldn't obey his mental commands and his muscles weren't strong enough to make good on his threat to start swinging should anyone come near him. Damn pain meds clouded his mind. The most he could do was mutter a dire threat but it must have come out a pathetic whimper because Sam was murmuring soothing nonsense and squeezing his shoulder.

"Damn me." Bobby gently used two fingers to poke and prod and push along Dean's belly, chest and left side. There was a fair amount of bruising, but Bobby attributed that to the beating and not an internal injury. "I dunno Sam, I'd rather he see a doctor, get a CT scan." Bobby sighed, feeling the slightly swollen, hardened belly. "I'm gonna go and say, what with his left shoulder bothering him, the pissing blood, his belly being distended and hard…"

"Spleen?"

"That'd be my guess." Bobby poked him along his hip until he rolled over then rearranged the comforter and blanket to expose only his leg while covering the rest of him. "He hasn't shown any signs of shock, has he? No fever?"

"No."

"Keep any eye on his heart rate, needs to stay under 100." Bobby said. "He has any dizziness or shortness of breath or says shits blurry….."

"All signs of low blood pressure which means he's still bleeding…yeah I know, Bobby."

Dean heard them talking but couldn't follow the conversation. His leg was cold and he felt his foot lifted from the mattress. Knowing what was coming, he prepared himself for the onslaught of pain that would follow.

"Spleens usually heal on their own, takes some time though…..we'll need to keep him off his feet for a while. How many times you able to get that burn cream on him?" Bobby asked.

"Twice."

"And how often are ya suppose ta?"

"Daily, twice a day, I guess…."

"Well, can't see how…..Bloody Holy Moly! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!"

Dean raised his head from the depths of his covers at Bobby's outburst. Sam was staring at the older hunter in stunned surprise. Dean looked between the two then decided whatever it was he just didn't care and went back under the covers.

"What?" Sam was sitting on the bed, Dean's foot in his lap. "Just hand me the tube of….."

"You said a burn Sam, that ain't no burn! That's a….?! That's….I don't know what the hell that is!"

"Yeah, well, shudda seen it the other night." Sam dabbed the ointment on with a soft cloth and rubbed with gentle, circular motions. Dean tensed and twitched and fidgeted but made no serious attempt to pull his foot free from Sam's hold.

Bobby leaned closer. "You sure…..oh…I see." he could see where Sam had snipped away layers of skin and what remained was yellow blisters, red scaly blotches and blackened skin. No wonder Dean needed strong meds to tolerate that burn being touched. He couldn't imagine Dean being able to tolerate it being cleaned with hot water or whatever Sam had found to use.

"You cleaned that in a vacant house?" Bobby said doubtfully. "You have to tie him down?"

"No."

"He didn't choke on or bite through his tongue?"

"Double dosed him on Perocdan then gave him Diluadid."

"Christ." Bobby muttered. "I dunno Sam, you're choosing to put him through a lot. I..."

"Like I don't know that?" Sam reached for a clean gauze pad that Bobby held out to him. "No signs of infection, he's just going to hurt for some time yet."

"How long you planning on staying here?"

"Til he's up to traveling." Sam knew he should attempt to cut away more skin since the ointment had had time to soften the burn and blisters but decided Dean wasn't up to it. He'd wait and see what kind of day he had. If it came to it he could always shoot his brother up on morphine, wedge a stick between his teeth and hold him down while Bobby wielded the scissors.

***000***

"Dean? That you?" Bobby heard one thump and one groan too many and wiggled free from the table, slid from the bench and finally gained his feet. "You ain't up, is ya?" he wheezed, stepping past the sofa and stopping in the doorway. "The hell you doing?"

"Cold." he stood in front on his bed, hands clutching to a shelf in the wall. "I'm….cold." he tested his weight on his bad leg and would have hit the floor had Bobby not moved to catch with a quick efficiency that defied his age. He swallowed hard, hot and dizzy and fighting the urge to slump against Bobby. Sam would be able to hold his weight but he wasn't so sure Bobby could.

He wouldn't admit it out loud but his leg was killing him. His toes were cramped; his knee felt tight and swollen and even his thigh ached from the steady, throbbing pain that emitted from his calf. He wondered when he'd last taken anything but didn't ask. Sammy would know and if it were time to give him more, he'd do so. Asking wouldn't get him anything sooner than he was supposed to have it.

"And?"

"Blank…..my blanket." he dared to raise a hand to rub at his eyes. "Sam…took it." he sniffed, slapping his hand back to its death grip on the shelf in the flimsy wall. "Didn't give it back."

"What the hell ails you?" Bobby groused. "Iffin you're cold, just say so…get your ass back in bed."

"But…I'm…..co…."

"Yeah, yeah…..you're cold, got you. He took it to the laundry….it smelled like mold…..now come on, lay down before you fall down."

"He's not here?"

"He went to the store, he'll be back. Now get back in bed, I'll find you a blanket." he didn't know where, Sam had taken both sleeping bags and the blanket from the truck to the Laundromat. Maybe he had one he'd forgotten about in the trunk of his car. "Here, put a shirt on, ya dumb ass."

"Can't."

"Sure you can….there's one right here….." he held up a Henley. "See? It's clean."

"No….can't raise my arm over my head."

"Aahh….well….then." that explained why Sam had left one of his own button down shirts on the sofa. "Well then, here"

Dean sat down on the bed and reached out with his right hand for the shirt. With gritted teeth and thinned lips, he was able to insert his right arm through the sleeve but once again, his left shoulder balked at the motion.

"Bobby? You mind?" Dean ground out.

"Sorry, sorry….." he moved to help the younger man on with his shirt. "Since you're awake, you sure you don't wanna go see a doctor? We'll go to a clinic, get an x-ray of your belly and see why you're pissing blood. See, if me and Sam are right thinking you mighta split your spleen."

"Ain't nothing, I'll heal, always do. Sammy doing okay?"

"And…you're asking why?"

"Cause his head ain't right and you know it. It's why you drove out here rather than wire the money…."

"You knew about that, huh?" Bobby mused. "He's not sleeping."

"Hardly ever does. You'd think after going a year without sleeping at all, he'd sleep every chance he got." the shirt was miss-buttoned but he didn't care.

"You hungry? Really should eat something, all those meds you're taking." Bobby advised.

"God…..no." he shuddered, eyes locked on the pillow that beckoned to him with cooing words.

"How you feeling?" Bobby asked, eying him as he wavered over whether to lie down.

"Menopausal." he went down on his side, pulling the comforter up to his chin.

"Meno….what-al?" Bobby removed his hat and scratched at the crown of his head. "You wanna start making some sense here?"

Dean peeked over the top of the comforter to give Bobby a look of utter disgust then flung the comforter over his head.

Bobby replaced his hat and settled his hands on his hips. He was going to have to talk to Sam. Whoever could tell what the hell Dean meant? Well, Sam could…but….

"I'm walking over to the soda machine, visit the men's rooms. Do not move your ass outta that bed 'til I get back? You hear me?"

"I'm sure they hear you in town. No need to shout Bobby, I ain't deaf."

Bobby grunted and searched the camper for an extra blanket. Not finding one, he searched his car but came up empty. He sent Sam a text to pick up a couple at the store while he was out then set out to take a walk about the grounds, seeing what services they offered and studying a map of the surrounding town, woods, mountain, lake and river posted on a bulletin-type board before heading back to the camper. Odd, three of the campers had pulled out and the remaining three were packed up with two already hitched up.

Seeing a woman step from her camper, he turned in her direction, intent on speaking with her to find out why everyone was pulling out when he caught sight of a man sulking about Sam's camper and diverted to hide behind a tree to watch and decide on what course of action to take. He didn't recognize the fellow, but it was obvious he was interested in the camper where Dean slept, unaware and unprotected. He was in no condition to defend himself against any kind of threat.

Bobby always carried a gun, but discharging a firearm within the campground would not go unnoticed. Without a doubt, the police would be called and how was he supposed to explain a dead body? And dead it would be, wasn't anyway he'd miss this close. The guy didn't appear to be expecting anyone to come up to the camper. Bobby looked over at his car, the way it was parked; a person could think it belonged to the neighboring camper. That might just work to his advantage.

Taking a length of fire wood from someone's pile, he crept stealthily up behind the man peeking in the camper window and with a two-handed swing, not only knocked the man off his feet, but knocked him several feet from the window.

"Nice to meet you Herbert." Bobby stared down at the unconscious man. "You just made your last mistake."

***000***

Sam fed quarters into the four washing machines. A local TV station was reporting a storm, with the possibility for severe weather was heading their way. It was not yet mandatory, but voluntary evacuations were under way, including the campground. Shit.

Once the washers were activated, he walked next door to a sub shop to get a hoagie for lunch. He didn't have to hurry to return to the camper; Dean would be fine with Bobby until he returned, so he retrieved his laptop from the truck and made himself comfy at the Laundromat with his lunch while he waited for the washer to cycle out.

If forced to evacuate, he needed someplace to go. Dean was in no condition to travel far and Sam guessed it would be another week, if not two, before he was. He read the text from Bobby; he already had blankets on his list of items to pick up from the store but changed the count from two to four. Once done at the Laundromat, he'd go shopping then return to the camper.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam folded the last of the laundry, loaded the car, returned to the sub shop to get hoagies and hot soup for Bobby and Dean then drove to the town's general store. They needed sheets and towels and blankets and more plates and cups. With an extra mouth to feed, wouldn't hurt to stock up on coffee, bottled water, canned soup, eggs and bread.

All he heard at the store, both from customers and employees, was talk of the coming storm. Seemed Oregon could get a freak hurricane-like storm from the coast that could travel miles inland. Great, just great. The last thing he wanted to do was leave. For a reason he couldn't explain, and it wasn't because he was reluctant to make Dean travel, he felt they shouldn't go. Felt that regardless of the meteorologist's predictions and the advice of local authorities to evacuate, they would be safer if they stayed put.

How to convince Bobby of that decision was something he'd have to work out on the drive back to the camper. He paid for his purchases and went out to the truck. In the thirty odd minutes he'd been in the store, the skies had darkened, the wind had picked up, strong enough to whip leafs from tree twigs and a dense, wet fog had crept in. Right now, it was low to the ground but the way it swirled and the speed with which it did so, promised it would be hanging heavy in the air before nightfall.

***000***

Bobby sat and stared at the bound and gagged man lying on the floor of the camper as he began to show signs of coming around. He hadn't known what to do with him so had dragged him into the camper to wait for Sam to return. By the time he'd gotten the man inside and tied up and gone back outside, the two campers that were hitched up had pulled out and the remaining one had been abandoned. He couldn't find anyone to question, Sam had taken the laptop and he simply didn't remember Sam had told him he'd been watching TV.

So, here he sat, on the sofa, drinking a beer, staring at the man Sam wanted dead. Oh, Sam hadn't come right out and said it but Bobby knew it. What he didn't know was, since Sam'd had the chance, why Herbie still breathed. Bobby kicked at the squirming man with a scowl, eliciting a grunt. Dean must have really been suffering a lot of pain to let this goober get the jump on him and beat him down. Sam hadn't spoken of anyone other than Herbert but good ole Herbie must have had some goon aiding him in rendering Dean unconscious. There was no other possible explanation.

Eyes opened, squinted against the light then rolled from the pain both actions brought and squeezed closed. Bobby leaned over to slap his face, tangling a hand in the man's hair to pull his head off the floor.

"Oh no you don't." he gave the head a shake, taking satisfaction when it groaned, eyes shut so tightly eyelashes weren't visible. "What's the matter Herbie? Not to comfy, huh?" he thumped the man's head against the floor a time or two, gave it some thought, then thumped it a couple more times, each thump a tad bit harder than the previous one. "How does that feel? You like dishing it out but don't take it so well, do ya?"

Eyes went wide and the bound man began to wiggle and thrash in earnest, head shaking to and fro as much as the fingers gripping his hair would allow. He began to grunt and mumble, doing his best to talk behind the tape covering his mouth.

"Fraid you'll have to remain here as you are until dark, can't risk trying to carry you outta here all trussed up and have someone see us." Bobby gave the head a vicious shake. "Someone might be back for that camper."

Feet thumping against the floor and more, frantic, garbled moans made Bobby chuckle.

"You be still and quiet, don't want Dean waking up and finding you here. Sam will be back soon, he's been wanting to have a chat with you." Bobby let the head go and it dropped to the floor with a thud. "He didn't take too kindly to someone using his brother as their punching bag." a strangled groan had Bobby kicking at the wiggling man on the floor as he flopped about, "I said shut up or I'll be knocking you out again." he picked up a knife and kicked the man over to his stomach, holding him there with a foot against his neck. "First, let's see if you have an allergy to silver…" he sliced into an arm, not caring how deep and not bothering to tend to the cut. "No…well, ok…..let's see if you have an aversion to having your faced washed." he prodded none too gently with his foot until the man was once again on his back. Neither holy water nor cleaning product produced any results. "Okay then, guess you're human."

More thumping came from the floor. Bobby looked down to see the man nodding frantically with more garbled grunts and groans.

"Oooh-eeee." Bobby cackled. "Not such the big man now, are you? Kick a man while he's down, will ya? You done picked the wrong man to tangle with. This one here whose spleen you done split open has a mentally unstable brother with what might be a split personality."

More vigorous nodding, eyes blinked rapidly and Bobby swore the muffled grunt from behind the duct tape sounded suspiciously like it was supposed to be the word, Sam.

"Bobby?" Dean was in the doorway. "What'sa the noise?"

"DEAN!" Bobby moved to stand between the man on the floor who was now scooting and twisting to see around him to see Dean, who had a hand on either side of the doorway, balancing on one leg. "Dammit boy! Don't you _ever_ stay where we put you?!"

"Sam back?" he wiped the right side of his face on his shoulder, then did the same with his left, chin coming to rest on his chest. He blinked, blinked again, freed one hand to rub his eyes, blinked some more, then hopped a step closer to confirm what he thought he'd saw was what he'd seen; a pair of feet on the floor, wearing sneakers and too small to be Sam's.

"What are you doing up? I told you, Sam will be back with your damn blanket. I turned the heat up, you're dressed, how freaking cold can you still be?"

"Noise." he swallowed hard. "Aah, Bobby?" he weaved, then wobbled, then fell down. Luckily, it was onto the sofa and he didn't make an effort to get back up. "Who…who is that?"

Bobby kicked the man back towards the fridge, wanting him away from Dean. "Your boy Herbie."

"Who?" oh God. He was either going to be sick or he was going to pass out. He hoped he made like a girl and fainted 'cause if he puked and there was blood, there'd be nothing he could do to stop Bobby from blistering his ass.

"Herbert, the man who handed you your ass." Bobby paused. "How the hell did that scrawny runt take you down anyway? I gotta know, 'cause I ain't believing it."

Dean squirmed about on the cushion, breath held against the rising nausea until he could see past Bobby to the man who was trying to sit up. Okay, he might be in pain, high on meds, bleeding internally and feel like shit but there was nothing wrong with his eyesight.

"Uh, 'cause that ain't him." Dean moaned. "That ain't Herbert."

"You sure? You've been taking some pretty strong pain meds."

"I'm sure. It ain't him." keep your eyes closed, breathe, not too deep, don't swallow, ride it out; was his repeated mental chant to fight the increasingly threatening nausea.

"Then who the hell is it?" Bobby gazed down at the limp figure who'd found renewed energy and began head bobbing in earnest. "Who the hell are you?"

***000***

"Bobby?" Sam came up the steps, leaving heavy rain, strong winds and dense fog behind as he stepped through the door, jostling a brown grocery bag in one arm, blanket in the other and a duffel of clean laundry slung over one shoulder. "Hey, I see all the other campers pulled….." he saw Dean lying slumped like a boneless lump on the sofa. "Dammit Dean! Why don't you ever stay where I put you?!" he echoed Bobby's earlier rant. Pissed over seeing Dean out of bed and, judging by his appearance, passed out on the sofa and with his arms full, no one coming to relieve him of anything, he didn't watch where he stepped. "Oomph!"

He staggered, over-balanced and pitched forward, bag of groceries hitting the floor, items scattering in all directions. He shrugged the duffel from this shoulder as he watched a run-away orange to where it came to stop against…..against the ankle of a bound and gagged man lying on the floor next to the fridge. _What the fuck?_

"Watch it." Bobby turned from the stove, phone to his ear, stepping around cans of soup and rolling apples. "I say Sam, be careful, I don't need the two of you both hurt."

"Who the…? What the….?" Sam pushed back onto his knees, set the blanket aside and reached to pick up the closet items that had fallen from the bag. "Dean!" he seethed. "What have you done?"

"Me? ME? How come you always make everything bad that happens about me?" came the weak protest from the sofa.

"Oh gee, let me think about it!" Sam snarked. "I go out for like, two hours, and come back to find some guy….tied up on the floor." he picked up the tumbled hoagies, checking to see if either had been crushed. "I even brought you your favorite sandwich. I mean, seriously man, what the hell? How do you find yourself in these situations? Where did he come from? I can't leave you alone for….Dude?" he dropped the hoagies, all thoughts of rescuing Bobby and Dean's dinner flying out of his head. "Oh shit! Good God Dean, what did you do?!"

"ME? ME? Why do you always blame me for everything?" Dean pushed up from his prone position, thought better of it and dropped back down. "I didn't do nothing."

"Sam! Hey! What are you doing!?" Bobby lowered the phone and disconnected as Sam crawled over and helped the man sit up. "Sam? Don't do that! We have no idea who he is or…."

"God ….." he ripped the tape from the man's mouth whose high-pitched screech caused all three hunters to wince. Dean groaned, causing Sam to toss him an irritated look before turning his attention back to the teary-eyed man on the floor. "Hey, you okay? God, I'm sorry they did this to you. What the hell are you doing here?"

It took a moment for the man to take control of his tongue and convince it to cooperate. "Sam, not so good to see you." he croaked hoarsely. "Great friends you have here…."

"How long have you been tied up on the floor?" Sam helped him to his feet and turned him around to slice through the zip ties holding his wrists together behind his back. "You're bleeding."

"Who is he Sam?" Bobby demanded, knife in hand as he moved to stand beside Dean. He wasn't taking any chances the recently-released-from-his-bounds man was as docile as Sam seemed to believe he was. "Not one step this way."

"Gotta tell ya Sam, I thought Samuel was a royal prick." he rubbed his wrists then dangled his hands to encourage returning circulation. "Some water would be good."

"Samuel?" Bobby echoed. "Interesting."

"Sam." Dean said wearily, pain evident in his voice. "I really don't feel up to this, I just don't."

"Up to what Dean?" he pulled open the fridge and removed a bottle of water. "Here."

"Who he is." Dean coughed wetly, prompting three identical looks to be directed his way. "You cudda just told us he was coming."

"I didn't know he was." he frowned, he didn't like the wet coughing and caught Bobby's eye. His attention was divided between his brother and their guest and it was giving him a headache.

"You didn't call him?" Bobby questioned.

"No."

"Then how did he know where to find you?"

"Yeah." Sam looked away from Dean. "How did you?"

"OnStar dude, I alerted you."

"I don't have any freaking clue how the hell that shit works." Sam waved a hand to dismiss the subject. "Why Manny?"

"I needed to talk to you. You didn't leave me your number or a way to reach you and the GPS on the truck was turned off….."

"I didn't want to be found."

"Yeah, well…."

"Wait, he's who you got this here rig from?" Sam nodded. "Then why the blazes was he sneaking about peeping in the windows?" Bobby asked. "Sam, you'd better start talking….."

"Yeah, yeah, why was he tied up on the floor? You ok Manny? Dean, move over…." Sam pushed at his brother impatiently. "Manny, dude, I'm sorry. I didn't know they'd treat you like this."

"We didn't know who he was Sam." Bobby snapped irritably. "I just told you I caught him sneaking around the camper peeping in the window and stop shoving your brother. Good Christ, he's got enough bruises, he don't need no more from you."

"Then tell him to move over."

"What the hell ails you?" Bobby frowned. "He can barely move Sam, he's a walking bruise and he ain't feeling so good. You want him to move, how about you lend him a hand rather than shoving at him like he's not allowed on the furniture?"

"Why didn't you just ask him who he was?" Sam eyed Dean, lips pursing as he acknowledged he'd failed to convince Dean to move over and share the sofa.

"For a third time, sneaking and peeping." Bobby huffed. "Thought he was Herbie."

"Dean, why aren't you in bed? Bobby, why is he up?"

"Cause." Dean muttered. "Who can sleep through all that thumping?"

"You got him up?" he turned his glare to Bobby who shrugged.

"You took his blanket. He was cold." Bobby retorted. He pointed at Manny. "And not me, him."

Sam took a moment and regrouped. He needed to find out why Manny had felt the need to track him down, needed to discuss the weather with Bobby and explain why he'd decided they should stay and he needed to send his brother who was showing signs of being feverish, back to bed.

"Ok." he took a beer from the fridge. "Dean…you should go back to bed."

"He should go see a doctor." Bobby countered. "Looked it up, there's a clinic the other side of town, ten minute drive. He's getting worse Sam. He needs x-rays of his belly."

"Still pissing blood?" Sam asked, staring at Dean who offered a half-hearted shrug. "Worse, how?"

"What say you stay here with your, erhm, friend while I run your brother to the clinic?"

"Worse, how?" Sam asked again.

"Not now Bobby." Dean groaned. "I…maybe tomorrow."

"The longer you put it off…"

"Ain't nothing too serious." Dean painfully fought to sit up but failed. "I'm doing okay. All they're gonna say is to keep doing what I've been doing. Stay off my feet, get plenty of rest and let it heal on its own."

"You don't even know what, 'it' is!" Bobby argued. These boys were gonna be the end of him.

"Some tear or puncture or something…" he rubbed his forehead on the couch cushion. "Crisis over? I'm gonna go lay down."

Sam clenched his jaw so tightly he made his head throb. He didn't need this now. Manny wouldn't have sought him out just to check up on how well Sam was treating the camper and truck. He'd come for a reason and that reason had to be Herbie.

"Fine." he unclenched. "I want to see your leg, you let me do that, you can go to bed and we'll put off going to the clinic."

"Dammit Sam, why do you always give him his way?" Bobby thundered angrily. "It ain't his damn leg he needs to see a doctor for."

"See it? Or touch it?" Dean wavered. He tried again to sit up, this time making it with help from Bobby. "Where's my blanket?"

"Both, I need to clean it, the ointment has softened…." Sam was saying but Manny had picked the blanket up and boy, did he know that look on his brother's face; Dean was about to give birth to a cow.

"Don't care." Dean mumbled. "Dude, that's mine." he moved with surprising fluidity and snatched the folded blanket out of Manny's hands. "You get your own."

"No, see here….." Manny played tug-of-war with the blanket, surprised when Dean refused to relinquish his hold. "Gimme! What are you? Five? Good God….let go!" he was on his feet, tugging for all he was worth but Dean still refused to let go. "Let me have it!"

"It's mine."

"I'm not taking it away from you." Manny said exasperated. "I don't want it. Just let go for a minute." he gave a final tug and came away the victor. "See?" he shook the blanket out to its entire size then draped it around Dean's shoulders, covering his neck and back of his head to his ears. "Wrap up tight."

"But I wanna go to bed."

"You can. Wear the blanket like a Snuggie."

"A what?"

"Manny…..don't go anywhere, we need to talk." he reached for his brother and when Dean allowed the touch, Sam hauled him to his feet. He hefted Dean's weight, turning him towards the doorway that led behind the entertainment console. "Should put you in the back bunk. There's a trundle, can't fall outta bed and it's close to the bathroom."

Bobby stood in front of the sink; arms crossed over his chest and stared at Manny. No way was Dean going to allow Sam anywhere near that leg so Sam wouldn't be but a couple of minutes.

"You, aah, got any aspirin?" Manny ventured, breaking both the awkward silence and the intense staring match. Bobby at Manny and Manny at the floor. "I seem to have acquired a headache."

A bottle flew at his head, he ducked and it hit him in the shoulder. "Thanks."

"How do you know Sam?" Bobby's tone brooked no-nonsense. He wanted answers and he knew his best source to provide them was the man who had taken a seat at the table.

"Oh." Manny opened the bottle and shook out four aspirin. "Met him while he was hunting with Samuel, guess he's hunting with you know, huh?" he popped the aspirin in his mouth and chased them with water. "Gotta say though, Sam…he's kinda different from when I knew him before.

"Might say that."

"You know Samuel?"

"I've met him."

"He's been off the grid lately, rumor has it he met an untimely end."

"He did." Bobby confirmed. "No loss."

"I see. What got him? Shifter? Demon? Ghostie?"

"Guess you could say, pissed off and protective brother." Bobby provided, waiting to see how long it would take Manny to make the connection, if he made it at all. Manny paused; Bobby easily read the emotions to cross his face. Wonder, confusion, thought, enlighten dawning, realization and finally, acceptance.

Manny pointed to the entertainment console; Bobby nodded. Manny's mouth worked but he didn't make a sound, just kept pointing until Bobby took pity on him.

"Yeah, that's Sam's brother."

"You…are you….you…you're saying….." he took a deep breath, feeling his teeth begin to hurt as tension, caused by being un-nerved took hold. "Sam has….a brother? Was that him? That's his brother? He…he….he killed….Samuel?"

Bobby opened the fridge and removed a beer. Manny looked like he could use something stronger than water.

"Wow." Manny shook his head. "Didn't know Sam even had a brother, course not like he ever spoke two words to me that weren't an order or a reprimand…okay, so guessing this brother's name is Dean." he downed half the bottle, paused for a breath then finished it. Good God, he'd just played tug-of-war with...with... "So, okay, don't go pissing off the brother." he muttered to himself.

"Heh?" Bobby took a second beer from the fridge. "Dean didn't kill Samuel, Sam did."

Sam stood against the backside of the entertainment console, waiting for his brother to settle down. He wasn't going down easily, his sleep disturbed by pain and his body's reaction to the cold and Sam couldn't bring himself to force Dean to endure the burn being touched.

He rubbed at the back of his neck. Soon as Dean eyes no longer flickered open when Sam made a move, he'd join Bobby and Manny and demand some answers. First though, he'd need to take some aspirin, his head was killing him.

He thought the sofa pulled out into a bed and figured the table folded down into one, wondered which would be less of a hassle, 'cause Manny was going to need a place to sleep. With the fog and rain, he wouldn't be going anywhere for a couple of days. Well, there was always the floor or he could banish him out to his car but that wasn't fair. It was a large camper; it had to sleep more than four.

There was the trundle under his bunk, but he didn't want Manny sleeping that close to him and it wouldn't do to ask Bobby, at his age to sleep on it. He could put Manny in the top bunk, Bobby in the lower one and he could take the trundle or he could move Dean back to sleep on the trundle. He'd be closer to Sam and Bobby and the bathroom, but he'd all but freeze being on the floor and Manny didn't deserve the queen bed.

Mmmmmmm…..the queen bed.

More than large enough to sleep two, it would be easy to move Dean from the middle and with Dean constantly complaining he was always cold...he stepped forward, pausing to see if Dean stirred. When he didn't move, Sam approached the bed. Dean was wearing the blanket like a shawl and Sam covered him with the comforter, making a note to get the sleeping bag from the truck. They'd share one, Manny would need the other. Decision made, one he'd inform Bobby of when the topic came up, Sam turned out the light and went to join the other men.

"Alright Manny, what are you doing here? I mean, how? Why?" Sam came out of the bedroom, carrying a towel and pulled the flimsy door closed. It wouldn't keep out much noise but would hold some heat in.

"You get him to go down?" Bobby asked. Sam looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced due to the paleness of his face.

"Yeah, anyone does anything to wake him up, I will break bones."

"His leg?"

Sam shook his head, running a hand through his hair. Bobby wanted to push, but now was not the time.

"Not hard to locate you, OnStar service and all." Manny gulped from the bottle of beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He needed to slow down or he'd embarrass himself by being sick all over the floor. "Wouldn't have come to find you if you had bothered to call me."

"I don't know anything about OnStar." Sam said impatiently. "I would have let you know where to pick the trailer and truck up when I was done."

"So, you did get this rig from him?" Bobby pounced, removing more beers from the fridge and passing two of them out.

"Ain't that Sam." Manny waved off the offer of a third beer. "Water though, please."

"Yeah, thought not." Sam slid into a seat at the table, bandages and towel in his hands that he tossed across the table at Manny. "Course not."

"Ain't hard for me to figure shit out, you know?" Manny pointed towards an apple, taking one when Sam nodded. Bobby joined Sam. "You called me, asking for a place out-of-the-way to hole up, said there were two of you…next thing I hear, a warehouse is broken into, an alarm was triggered, only it ain't no ordinary alarm. You asked me for a clinic where you could get pain meds and first aid for burns….now, I can put two and two together….you were in town on a job, had to be, some part of it went wrong….."

"What do you know about the warehouse?" Sam stared him down. "It was a salt and burn, we went to the warehouse to check the office of the deceased, wasn't supposed to be…."

"Yeah, well, that spirit you want to dispatch….?"

"We did. We were cleaning up loose ends at the office…."

"Uh-huh, but that spirit was summoned and controlled and you're right, there were loose ends at the warehouse, they were protected by the laser alarm…..and you broke it, didn't you?"

"Not on purpose."

"Course not."

"Summoned by whom?" Bobby asked.

"Herbert Winston Coleman."

"Fuck me." Sam breathed as Bobby muttered, "Son-of-a-bitch."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Okay, now, I might have taken some lee-way with my take on hypothermia and migraines. It's as close as I could come to what I wanted. ***

"Guessing you've heard of him." Manny said. "Seeing as how you thought I was him."

"Yeah, well, I ain't never seen him." Bobby said defensively. "So, guessing you were right Sam, seems he did know who Dean was at the bar, knew him from the warehouse, knew you were hunters anyway."

"He's not living to see another day." Sam vowed. "Never should have let him go."

"That laser security beam?" Manny was shaking his head. "Cursed."

"What?" Sam's head snapped up startled, he'd been thinking back to the night before last when he'd had the bastard within sight. Could have easily done him in, right then and there, should have, but yet… ….

"By Herbert." Bobby guessed. "How the hell do you know all this?"

"Yup." Manny nodded. "Seeing as you're upright and walking Sam, I'm gonna say it was your brother?" he paused, waiting for confirmation, continuing when Sam jerked his head in affirmation. "Huh, never knew you had a brother. So it was Dean that took the hit, how's he doing?"

"Not so good."

"Why would Herbert jump Dean at the bar? How would he know Dean was even at that bar or that it was Dean at the warehouse?" Bobby let the matter of the Campbell year go for the moment but had every intention of verbally beating Sam into a confession in the near future. "Don't make no sense…."

"What does this burn do to him?" Sam ignored Bobby. Those were questions they could find answers to later, if ever. Most likely, all Hebert had known were he and Dean were hunters, not their names.

"Never heal. Maybe for now, pain meds are working, but they won't for long." Manny explained. Sam nodded, that explained why Vicodin only held him two hours. How long would Diluadid hold him and how long before it too, ceased to be effective? "You can take him to a hospital, won't matter, won't help him…..it's going to get worse…the pain, it'll become infected, nothing you do with prevent that, but that ain't your biggest problem."

"It's not?" Sam swallowed, feeling sick to his stomach. "There's more?" he felt the familiar ache begin behind his left eye. Oh God, not now, please no, just let it remain a headache. "Course there is." his thumb began a gentle massage.

"Say what?" Bobby demanded, catching Sam's eye. "And for the last god-damned time, it ain't the burn I think he needs a doctor for!"

"It's more of a distraction. The real problem is hypothermia. His body temperature will drop, you'll need to keep it above 80 degrees or…." Manny paused. "…..you gotta keep him warm enough until you can make the antidote or he'll….."

"Are you saying he'll freeze to death?" Bobby breathed. "Literally?" he paused, then questioned. "How do we stop it? Break the curse? You mentioned an antidote?"

"If you manage to keep his body temperature from falling too low, the antidote…." Manny dug out a piece of folded up paper from the pocket of his coat. "….will break the curse. It's not so much a curse, but – but, well, see, everyone concentrates on the burn….no one pays any attention to the person complaining they're cold and fails to see the drop in body temperature before it's too late." he offered the paper to whoever wanted to take it. "It's in some kind of Latin, I think, shouldn't be a problem for Sam." he eyeballed Bobby. "Guessing you read Latin as well."

"How did you know that? How do you know any of this?" Bobby took the paper and offered it to Sam who first refused it, then took it and just held it. "And how in the blazes of hell did you get this?" he waved a hand in the direction of the paper Sam simply held.

"It's what I do." Manny said simply. "I find things, provide things, know things." he paused. "Soon as I heard about the warehouse, did some research, knew it was a job, connected it to you, did some more digging, once I found out about the cursed alarm, knew I had to find out all I could about the curse and then contact you, just in case it was you who tripped it."

"So, do we hafta find Herbert?" Bobby sighed. Well, Sam had intended to all along, it'd just be sooner rather than later. He took a moment to give Sam his complete attention. The kid was done. "Gimme that." he plucked the paper from Sam's fingers. "How hard these ingredients gonna be to find?"

"Not hard." Manny said. "And Herbert ain't needed."

"Herbie's already a dead man." Sam spoke up, voice deceptively soft. "Anyone who hurts my brother will live to regret it…..someone tries to kill him and I'll take them and anyone and everyone in his life, out."

"Now Sam…" Bobby began.

"How long do we have?" Sam asked Manny, ignoring Bobby and the comfort he knew the older man would offer were he to allow it.

Manny shook his head. This was more like the Sam he remembered. "Once you have all the ingredients, all your brother's gotta do is drink it and the curse will be broken, after that modern medicine will work." he paused. "How long? Dunno, depends. Long as you're able to keep him warm and prevent shock or hypothermia…are there any signs of infection?"

"Aah, dunno…not before but…."

"Pain meds holding him?"

"Diluadid is…just…" Sam let his voice trail off. "How warm do we hafta keep him? And how do we tell what his body temperature is? How low does a thermometer read anyway?"

"Ninety-four on an electronic one, I'd say the same for a glass one with mercury." Manny shrugged. "Hospitals have a special thermometer that reads lower but even if we had one, I doubt you'd want to use it."

"Why's that?" Sam asked with a whine.

"Just…..let's say, they're invasive." Manny grinned at the face Sam made. "Right, so, you got a thermometer?"

"Great." Bobby's lazy voice dripped sarcasm. "That's all fine and dandy - _for the curse_ \- but hear me on this. No broken curse or chanted spell or magic potion is gonna tell us why he's pissing blood."

"God Bobby, let it go. Just give it a rest." Sam sighed. "We have modern medicine."

"And how's that working for him?" Bobby got up from the table. "You need some rest Sam, gimme the night to think on this, make some calls, get to know Manny here and we'll pick up in the morning. Manny can give me a hand carrying shit in." he paused, but Sam didn't move. "Sam, I ain't gonna tell you again, go lay down."

"Lay down?!" his voice rose. "You want me to go _lay down_? What the hell's the matter with you?"

Bobby turned around to look at Sam, bristling at the tone of voice addressing him. "Boy, calm down. You're exhausted and you ain't no good to anyone when you're like this."

"Bobby, this is serious! He didn't stub a toe or dislocate a shoulder…he…he…."

"Take a deep breath." Bobby cautioned calmly. "You ain't alone here Sam. We'll figure this out. You keep yelling at me like you're doing and you'll be in a heap on the floor."

Sam had the pads of this thumbs holding his eyelids closed. His head wasn't going to give him a choice to disobey Bobby. Another five minutes and he _would_ be on his knees, another ten and he'd be curled up on the floor.

"I can't." he breathed, heels of his hands rubbing his cheek bones into his eye sockets. "I can't do this Bobby, I can't…I can't…he…I can't lose him - not now."

"You won't." Bobby promised. "Now go lay down….two hours…that's all I'm asking for….okay?"

"Manny?" he got out. "You…."

"Dude, sofa folds out, I'll be good." Manny spoke up. "Don't need to be putting….."

"Dean doesn't need to try and walk around it." Sam cut in, tone sharper than he intended and he backed off with a lopsided grin. Bobby knew the signs as well as Dean did; it was time to put Sam to bed.

"Good point." Bobby nodded. "The table folds down….."

"We use it." Sam blindly reached out for the bottle of aspirin he heard being shaken, knew it was the Excedrin Migraine kept just for him.

"No…..here, I got it…" Bobby put the pills in Sam's outstretched hand and guided his hand to his mouth. "Water…..okay?" Bobby helped Sam climb out from the table. "Come on."

"No….I….Dean."

"You let me worry about Dean for a bit. Sleep it off before you're no good." Bobby repeated. He knew helping Sam to bed might risk waking Dean up but he didn't need to be told where Sam had decided to sleep. Not after having learned that they needed to keep Dean warm at any and all costs. Hell, if he had too, he'd join them in bed. "Give it a couple hours, your head still hurts, you can take your meds, okay?"

"But…..his leg and his…he was up when I got back…..he still pissing blood? His belly still sore? What about his heart…..? He needs to get dressed Bobby…..he'll throw a fit we try'n dress him! He…"

"Sam, he's good…." Bobby reached out to squeeze his shoulder. He expected Sam to shrug free from his touch but after a moment where the younger man tensed, he relaxed.

"He….?" he winced, tongue suddenly too thick to speak properly. He swallowed but couldn't contain the groan that involuntarily escaped. "All he's wearing is…"

"Enough…come on…I can't drag your ass to bed." Bobby coaxed. "Sleep for a while, Dean's nice and warm; we'll tackle him after you've had some sleep. We'll tend that leg, check his belly, watch him piss if it'll make you feel better and then get him into warm pants and a shirt, even socks on his feet…okay? I'll give him another blanket for now, how's that sit with you?"

Sam nodded, not able to do anything more than move his head. "Okay."

Bobby and Manny carried in the rest of the laundry, the groceries and the blankets along with the sleeping bags. Bobby took a moment to toss a sleeping bag over Sam who had lain down atop the bed blankets and a blanket over Dean, then joined Manny at the table. After an hour of discussion, he finally came to the conclusion, the odd-ball guy wasn't such a bad sort and began to discuss their current situation to try and figure a way out of it.

"So…Sam…..he's not quite like he was when I knew him." Manny said.

"Aah, yeah, well….he's been through some shit….he's getting better."

"Yeah." Manny nodded. "He's like a different dude….for the better too."

"Alright Manny, look, I don't know how you know Sam and I ain't asking." Bobby said. "Sam was gone, he came back but he didn't come back right….took Dean awhile to get things straightened out and Sam's head back. Kid's been through some shit, I ain't gotta tell you about a hunters life. The Sam you knew, and if he was hunting with the Campbell's, I know how he was, is no more."

"Kinda…..attached to his brother, huh?"

"Aah…..the mind's a fragile thing. Sometimes a person needs a life line to reality. Guessing you could say Dean is Sam's. For now, like I said, kid's getting better."

"Okay….what's his meds?"

"Zomig." Bobby effectively ended the conversation; no longer comfortable with the direction it was headed. "Okay, so let's get cracking on this here list….see what we need to go find…you hungry? Cold-cut Italian to your tastes? Dean ain't gonna eat it and if he's hungry later, Sam brought him some soup I can heat up. After we eat, send you after some coffee, see if we can get Dean to drink some, he takes his black…..Sam likes French Vanilla creamer and I like sugar…...while I find the best places to find these here ingredients. Only one I see maybe being a problem is wild gooseberries grown in the wilds of northern Scotland." he removed his hat and scratched his head. "Seriously? You sure this antidote is for real? Gooseberries? I mean, come on man."

"I can make some calls."

"Yeah, me too, but in all my years hunting, ain't never heard of gooseberries bein' needed for nothing." Bobby blew a breath out. "Well…..okay then….looks like we got some researching to do tonight while the boys get some sleep. I need Sam up and around tomorrow…Dean ain't an easy one to deal with and Sam's best at handling him."

"Migraines, then. Zomig the best medication for his headaches?" Manny asked, turning the conversation back to Sam only to be effectively shut down once again.

"Seems to work."

***000***

Sam slept, least he thought he did, but if he had, his nap had done nothing to alleviate the pressure or the pounding currently attacking his head. He raised a hand to massage his forehead just above his eyebrows. Fuck, he had one hell of a wicked headache, god-damn…..wow, he couldn't ever recall having a headache like this one; didn't feel like any migraine he'd ever had before either. His memory was hazy, his ability to think fuzzy and he was unable to focus or concentrate but one thing he was sure of; aspirin hadn't touched it.

He fingered the sleeping bag, knew what it was by its silky feel, didn't recall lying down with it and came to the conclusion that Bobby was around somewhere. Right, he'd taken some aspirin, then….Sam shifted his head to the left, trying to gain some sense of where he was, 'cause the noise he heard next to his ear was so loud, surely a freight train had to be coming.

All he needed to do was open his eyes.

He lifted his head from the mattress, pleased when neither pain nor nausea assaulted him. He eased his hands under his back and rose up onto his elbows. Though his head was clearing and his ability to think straight was returning, his head was still killing him.

Dean.

Dean was…he needed to check on Dean. Yeah, Bobby would keep an eye on him, but he needed to see his brother with his own eyes. And he would, soon as he could convince them to open. His first attempt didn't go well, his second also failed and his third attempt drove him down flat on the mattress, eyes still closed.

Labored breathing, not a freight train, finally drove his eyes to open and he slanted them left. Was there some reason he was in bed with….. next to…..please, Dear God, let it be his brother. His bed-buddy appeared to sprout another head before his very eyes. Then produced a duplicate face. Oooh, not good, oh so not good. Dear God, let it be him seeing double and not an actual double of Dean. He simply could not handle twin Dean's.

His head took a notion and decided it wanted to part ways with his body. Apparently it, his head, was capable of growing a mind of its own and it took exception to his decision to keep his eyes open and warred with his refusal to close them. When he refused to give in and give his head its own way, it came up with a battle plan.

His eye twitched and its socket quivered as pain set-up a steady drumming behind his left temple, marched around his eye, crossed over his nose, kicked its way along his cheek bone, circled his right ear, swam through his forehead and returned to his temple to begin its trek again. When he raised his hand to massage along his eyebrow, his head attempted a mass expulsion. The pressure along his ears and behind his nose, his heads attempt to squeeze out the contents of his skull, made him cry out.

Admitting defeat, he let his eyes close, wiping tears from his cheeks. He tried to make nice with his head, promising to keep it flat and in the dark in a quiet room, bribing it with the promise of a cold, wet cloth if it _would just_ _cease_ trying to evict his brain. But no. No amount of coaxing or pleading or bargaining convinced his head to stop its attack. Threats and his attempt to wrestle his head into submission resulted in a full blown revolt and nausea burned the back of his throat, robbing him of his ability to even breathe.

"Sam?" Bobby called softly from the doorway. "You awake?"

"Aargh!" he leapt from the bed, blinking in sleepy confusion. Habit and instinct gave him the strength and coordination to strike a defensive stance between the bed and the door. "Aah? Huh?" the bed was to his back and he heard Dean stir with a groan but his head hadn't given up. Every noise, every scent, every movement was intensified. He bolted for the door, pushing past Bobby and stumbling out the door of the camper. He fell down the two steps and landed on his knees, hands cradling his head as it attempted to proceed with the eviction of his brain via his nostrils.

"Aw, shit." Bobby turned around, walked back to the bunks and returned to place a small leather case on the table in front of Manny. "Where the hell….I had it…..damn case ain't that big. Christ, the shit he's got in here, it's like never-ending. Like the mystery of how a dang female packs the contents of a suitcase into a purse. God-damn, aah, here we go." he withdrew a nasal injector and put a bottle of pills back in the case.

"His headache's worse then?" Manny questioned.

"Uh-huh."

"Pills not enough?"

"Not now." Bobby sighed. "Shudda given them to him before he went to lay down. I know better." he removed a bottle of water from the fridge. "This works faster. He's puking so he ain't gonna keep pills down."

"You know, Imitrex is injectable." he called after Bobby who had gone after Sam. "Just when you think you have someone figured out…"

"Easy kid." Bobby squatted down next to Sam who had crawled away from the camper to the other side of Bobby's car. "Sam, hey…just ole Bobby here." he laid a hand on Sam's shoulder and when the kid neither tensed nor shrugged him off, went down on one knee, threaded his fingers through the mop of hair and pulled Sam's head up. "Just relax….got your medicine." he let go of Sam's hair and reached to pull the injector from his pocket but Sam was either unwilling or unable to keep his head up. Bobby moved so that he was on his knees behind Sam and pulled him against his chest. He held Sam's head on his shoulder and fumbled for the injector.

"Sam, hold your nose…..hey…need you with me here….put your finger against your nose…come on….that's it….okay…tip your head back, count to three and take a breath through your nose….." Bobby inserted the injector up one nostril and depressed the plunger until he heard the click. "Now breathe through your mouth…your mouth Sam…..that's it."

Manny came to the door but wisely stayed in the camper, not wanting to intrude on the private moment. He kept the two men within sight but his attention was on the weather. The wind had picked up, the fog was getting thick, dense it some spots, solid white in others. He frowned, turning back to turn the TV on. Luckily, the camper's satellite still received a signal. He kept the volume low, mindful of Sam's threat to break bones should anyone wake Dean up. Sam might not be in any condition to carry through on his threat now, but it would only be a matter of time before he was.

"Okay?" Bobby let go of Sam and put the bottle of water in his hand. "Rinse and spit, then you can drink; see if you keep it down." it would take anywhere up to an hour, if not two, for the medicine to kick in and he wasn't about to leave Sam outside in the wet grass until it did.

"Need a hand?" Manny asked quietly. "Weather's not looking so good…we should get him inside."

"Yeah…..grab an arm."

"He always get headaches like this?"

"Never." Bobby said grimly. "Bad headaches, yeah, but never seen him like this before….gonna guess it's the stress 'bout Dean-n-all. Come on Sam…..up you go."

Sam couldn't move. His head not at all happy it had lost the battle, split into two and attacked with renewed vigor. It cut him off from his senses, he became deaf and blind and numb. Though he wanted to get up, his head blocked his legs from receiving the command to obey and support him and Bobby and Manny simply weren't strong enough to get him on his feet without his help. He'd be staying outside in the wind and rain and fog until the medicine kicked in.

Round two to his head.

"Guess we're carryin' him." Bobby huffed. "Can you get his feet?"

"Carry him?" Manny repeated doubtfully, eyes wide. "You serious?"

"Can't leave him out here."

His head, doing its victory dance, never saw the counter-attack coming. Yeah, it may be able to defeat Sam when it came to body motor skills but it would never be able to overcome Sam's concern and worry, _his feelings_ , for what was most important to him, and it wasn't himself.

Strong arms came around him from behind and hands took hold under his armpits with a grip strong enough to haul him to his feet. He rose with the hug, head squealing its displeasure as he wrestled to merge it back to being one. As long as he had his brother, he would always be able to conquer any uprising his head threw at him. Were he ever to lose Dean, well his mind would blow and his head would become the winner.

Dean caught Bobby's eyes as he held Sam upright. The man in his arms; shaking and crying, was in a condition he hadn't seen in six or so years and it was a state he'd never wanted to see again.

"Why'd you let it get this bad?" Dean demanded, hefting more of Sam's weight. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

Bobby cursed; it was bad enough he had a soaking wet Sam to undress and warm up, but Dean being out in this weather was detrimental to his very life and he could well do without the attitude.

"Get in the camper." Bobby ordered. "And that's enough outta you, you damn dummy….what were you thinking, coming out here?"

"That I wasn't going to leave him out here in the dirt." Dean sniped. "Fuck me, he's heavy."

The warmth of the camper was welcoming and Dean shivered with chills as he and Bobby dropped Sam onto the bed. He started to remove Sam's shirt but Bobby shoved him away with a scowl.

"Let me…..you get outta those clothes before I tan your hide." Bobby scolded.

"What?" Dean asked perplexed, looking around for the object of Bobby's ire; not realizing the object was him. "What'd I do?"

"You went outside." Bobby struggled to keep a lid on his anger. Dean didn't yet understand the danger of being outside in the cold with basically no clothes on.

Dean gave him a look of childish hurt but tried to shrug out of his shirt. He wasn't wearing pants or shoes so he couldn't quite see Bobby's annoyance with him. "He take his meds?"

"Huh…" no need to tell him it'd only been some five minutes ago. "Yeah."

"Need a hand?"

Dean blinked, with Sam back in the safety of the camper; he was in danger of crashing under the overwhelming pain flaring from his toes to his crotch. "Who'n the hell'r you?"

"Here." Manny reached to help him with the removal of his shirt. "Friend of Sam's."

"Don't need no…your…help." Dean muttered. "He ok?"

"Yeah, he's fine." Bobby weighed the benefits of getting Sam out of his wet jeans or leaving him wearing them until the medicine kicked in and he could assist in undressing himself. Deciding an hour wouldn't hurt him, he left the younger man wearing the jeans but removed his shirts, shoes and socks before covering him with both sleeping bags. "You." he pointed to Dean. "Hot shower, now."

"What?" he managed to quip incredulously. "Yean…no, I don't think so."

"Camper has a shower and don't even think about arguing with me, I ain't having it…now move!"


	7. Chapter 7

It took longer than Bobby had ever imagined it could take to force a cranky thirty-some year old male into taking a shower he did not want. If nothing else, Bobby learned the reason he drank and why Sam submitted to medication required headaches. He'd have to bake Sam some of his favorite oatmeal-molasses cookies once they were back at the cabin. Meanwhile, he'd have Manny pick up a bottle of Kahlua - Sam sure did like his sweet-flavored drinks - for the kid sure deserved some reward for dealing with the pain-in-the-ass currently giving Bobby a hard time.

Dean.

He reasoned, he argued, he whined, he threatened, and he pouted. He didn't respond to bribes, threats or ultimatums. He asked politely, he politely refused. He procrastinated, he dragged his feet, he found countless reasons not to get wet and he did not step willingly into the small bathroom.

He resisted having the bandages removed from his leg and slapped away any assistance removing his shirt and boxer briefs. When Bobby finally had enough, he grabbed Dean by his ear and put the younger man down, face first over the table, one arm against the back of his neck so that his cheek squeaked against the table surface.

"That's enough, you half-wit." Bobby growled, panting from the exertion of struggling with Dean. He cast an eye towards the entertainment console, but thankfully the door next to it remained closed. If Sam found him manhandling his brother, no amount of cookies or Kahlua would appease him. Bobby stifled the unease that blossomed up from his belly and settled in his heart over how easy it had been for him to take Dean down and how quickly he'd submitted once Bobby had gotten physical.

Ignoring his…..he _was not_ going to call it _guilt..._..whatever the feeling was, he fell back on his coping mechanisms; abrupt grumpiness and impatience. By the time Bobby _finally_ had Dean undressed and in the shower, forty-five minutes had passed and Manny had chuckled himself into Bobby's bad graces.

"You….." Bobby pointed a finger at him as he walked towards the front of the camper on his way to check on Sam. "Go to the store and see what ingredients from the antidote you can find."

"Sure…..sure…..no problem." Manny was shaking his head, shoulders still heaving from contained giggles. "News says a storm's coming."

Bobby grunted.

"Aah, anything else?" Manny pulled his coat on and patted his pockets for his car keys.

"You need money….?" Bobby handed him a hundred. "Get us that coffee to and don't dawdle either."

"Right….right on that. Gimme an hour." mindful of a sleeping Sam, the door closed gently behind him.

Dean balanced on one leg in the smallest shower he could ever recall being in. Wasn't such a bad thing, he could support his weight with the palms of his hands on opposite walls and lay his forehead against the one he faced. The water hit his right shoulder so he was able to hold his left leg mostly away from the hot water.

He didn't feel well at all. His head, his stomach, the toes on his left foot, and his left hip had apparently formed a club and plotted rebellion. It didn't help that he was cold, couldn't stop shivering and while the hot water felt good, the spray of water was weak and what little water did hit his bad leg, stung and burned.

He'd been ordered to take a shower, not pick up a bar of soap so as soon as the water started to run warm, he shut it off and got out. A blanket had been left on the lid of the toilet and after drying off with a towel, he wrapped it around his shoulders and took a seat on the closed lid of the toilet and let his head dip towards his knees.

Dizziness and nausea. Great.

He knew at least a day or more had passed of which he had little to no memory. He knew Bobby was with him but didn't know when he'd come. He also knew there was some strange dude running about but had no idea who the hell he was or where he'd come from, or why. He knew he was in pain. He hurt and by the feeling of heavy weariness hanging over him, he knew he'd been given pain meds and he wanted more.

"Awww...fuck." his leg obviously agreed for it chose that moment to ignite in fury. Thoughts and mind in a muddle, he instinctively lowered a hand to grasp his calf and found himself on the floor, left temple resting on the fiberglass tub. He didn't recall pitching forward off the toilet, the last thing he'd been aware of was his fingers finding a hole in his leg.

Bobby eased the door open to peek in on Sam, hoping he was still sleeping. He didn't turn a light on, letting the faint light from the kitchen area of the camper illuminate the bed. Sam stirred, turning away from the light, but didn't moan in distress.

Dean came up behind him, blanket around his shoulders. "Bobby?" he swallowed hard, licking sweat with a dry tongue from his upper lip. "Bobby…I don't….."

"Hey." Bobby greeted without turning around. "Want you to get dressed. Put socks on your feet, you hearing me?"

"What've I been taking?" he lost his grip on the door frame and slowly slid to the floor to sit on his hip. Bobby looked over his shoulder with a frown. "Ow."

"What in the hell'r'ya doing?" Bobby shook his head. "Trying to wake your brother?"

"Trying to be quiet." he blinked, eyelashes wet, freckles prominent. "Sor…reee." his left leg was curled beneath him and he tried to straighten it out. "He's okay, meds have kicked in."

"And you know that how?" Bobby asked, quirking an eyebrow at the heavy pants coming from the man on the floor.

"His breathing." Dean finally was able to sit on his ass. "His face has color, eyes aren't moving under his lids, lines around his mouth are gone, forehead's not all bunched, he's just sleeping now."

Bobby shook his head; Dean couldn't remain standing on his feet, yet he could tell all that from one look at Sam. "You can't stay on the floor. How'd you get back here? Crawl?"

"I dunno." he let his head rest against the wall. "I don't feel so good." he slumped; shoulder against the wall his only support keeping him upright. "Leg...hurts...my stomach..mmmm, god..."

"Meds have worn off….been awhile…..get you in bed and you can have some more. Think you can get dressed? Might as well do it while you're on the floor."

"Try." he rolled onto his right hip and snagged his duffel bag and dragged it over. He pulled out a pair of briefs and had one foot through a leg when the item of clothing was snatched from his hands. "Hey! Gimme those back!" he found the strength to protest the loss of dignity when a man was deprived of his underwear. "Bobby…come on…..I can't…do this." his voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "Just...let me..."

"Not these." Bobby discarded them. "For the life of me, I don't know what ails the two of you...here."

"I need underwear!" he rubbed at his eyes. "Didn't want a shower in the first place."

"I said get dressed."

"And I am!" he was whining. "Shorts and t-shirt is what I sleep in."

"Not this time." Bobby had other clothes in his hands and held them out to Dean who just stared at them. "Take 'em, you dim-wit."

"I don't sleep in pants Bobby. I don't have….."

"Here." Bobby waited. "Take 'em Dean." he dropped them in Dean's lap when he still made no move to accept them. "Ain't fooling here kid."

"They're Sam's."

"And?"

"They're not mine."

"So?"

"I don't wanna wear Sam's clothes."

"Boy, you are two seconds away from going over my knee and having your ass busted…..PUT THE DAMN PANTS ON!"

"Ok, okay, ok, geesch. Don't be having a stroke. Still want underwear though." he glanced up as Sam stirred, cheek nuzzling along Dean's pillow. "Hey, big-foot…my pillow." he let his eyes close. "Why's he in my bed?" Dean made a face as he gained his knees and tied the pant-strings. He perched with his ass on his ankles, fighting the dizziness until his leg pitched a fit, then crawled over to the bed. "And why's it all wet?"

"What's wet? You know, you'd try the patience of Mother Theresa herself." he patted the mattress. "Well, shit." Bobby muttered, recalling he'd left Sam in wet jeans. "Not your side, just his."

"Can't he sleep somewhere else?" Dean sulked.

"Put your arms up." Bobby had a shirt scrunched up, ready to pull over Dean's head. His right arm was easy to work into the sleeve, his left, not so much. "Easy…." Bobby cautioned. "Don't twist like that…..just hold your arm up…that's it….okay." shirt on, Bobby held out a pair of socks. "Put these on." Dean wasn't happy about their addition, still pouting over being coerced into wearing Sam's pants but apparently he'd taken Bobby's threat literally, for he complied without further comment.

"I'm cold."

Bobby started muttering under his breath but Dean couldn't make out what he was saying. The floor was so drafty, it was downright cold. He started to shiver and when his teeth started to chatter, Bobby helped him crawl into bed where he pushed him flat onto his back and poked him until he slid closer to Sam to avoid the annoying finger.

Dean tensed, muscles bunched as he prepared to move to the edge of the bed, but then...warmth...Oh God...the warmth and heat, generated by...from...Huh, so maybe Sammy had a use after all. All he could do was curl onto his side, back to Sam and let the warmth ease into his chilled bones.

"Here, open...no, you're mouth, not your fist." Bobby heaved a sigh, rolling his eyes. "What would I want your hand for? No, under your tongue...right, HEY! NO...don't chew...just hold it...that's it..." Bobby talked softly while giving Dean another dose of Dilaudid. He'd thought by now, Dean would know how to take the tablet.

He debated over tackling the chore of tending the burn but finally decided against it. It needed to be cleaned, the ointment properly applied and wrapped securely against infection and as soon as Sam woke up coherent and functioning, it would be done. He worked the pant leg up, dabbed some ointment on a gauze bandage and taped it over the burn and left him be.

Once Bobby was sure Dean was as settled as he was likely to be, he turned his attention to Sam. Able to rouse him enough to gain his aid in removing his jeans without really awakening him fully, he made sure both were covered with the comforter and sleeping bag, and left them to sleep.

***000***

Sam completely understood why his brother didn't like to remain encased in a fuzzy fog created by the influence of pain meds. It was hard to fight your way out from being under their effects, difficult to distinguish reality from hallucinations, impossible to tell if you were awake and coherent or awake with no fucking clue that you were.

He lay as he had awoke, least he think he did. For all he knew, he wasn't awake and all he'd taken was over-the-counter migraine aspirin. He could hear a masculine voice that wasn't Dean, he didn't know how he knew that, but he knew it. Must be Bobby, 'cause he was sure that older hunter had been with him when…..when what?

He swallowed, tongue dry and licking his lips in a futile attempt to wipe the taste from his mouth. His nose wrinkled in disgust, knew that taste. Zomig. He didn't remember taking a dose, but he must have. No wonder he felt drugged and sluggish. Best thing to do was stay where he was and sleep it off. He was warm, he was comfy and cozy, Dean slept safely beside him and…

"SAM!" Bobby bellowed, coming through the door of the camper and letting it slam behind him. Let it wake Dean, he didn't care. He could use the help to throttle the youngest member of their small family. He was seriously going to box the kid's ears. "SAM!" he came to an abrupt halt, freezing where he stood when he found himself confronted by a gun aimed directly at his forehead. "Sam…..it's me." Bobby changed his tone, cursing himself mentally. He knew better than to startle Sam, what the hell had he been thinking waking the kid out of a sound sleep? A drug-induced sleep at that.

The bed behind him where his brother still slept, Sam tightened his grip on the knife he held in his hand at his side. Shoot a gun or throw a knife; any threat would be removed. He finally recognized Bobby who wisely stood still in the doorway, hands up in surrender as he waited for Sam to regain his conscious thought. Bobby didn't know where Sam had gotten either the gun or the knife but he wasn't about to test Sam's reflexes with either.

Sam slowly relaxed. He tossed his gun, not watching where it landed; the knife he set aside on the table then turned to check on Dean.

"What's wrong?" he asked Bobby, satisfied that Dean still slept.

"You! It's you! You god-damn dummy!"

"Stop yelling!" Sam hissed. "What the hell is it this time?" he started from the room, pushing Bobby backwards through the door.

"Anything you mighta forgot to mention when you got back from town?" he opened the camper door and waved Sam forward.

"Oh." he peered around Bobby's shoulder with a yawn. "Yeah, was getting really foggy on the drive back." he commented dismissively.

"You think?"

"So, a storm's coming." he shrugged, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the lank locks with a grimace. "I need a shower."

"Hey there Sam, you feeling better?" Manny waved from the table. "Brought you some coffee…come, have a seat. Your brother doing okay?"

"Coffee?" he eyed the take-out cups on the table.

Manny didn't miss the way Sam avoided talking about Dean but let it go. If Sam wanted to be all evasive and protective, he was fine with that. "Yeah, caffeine. It's supposed to be good for headaches…..come on….sit."

Sam thought about it and decided a shower could wait. Perhaps some coffee would chase the bad taste from his mouth. He yawned, wincing when his forehead protested the movement, then slid into the seat at the table. He eyed a box of doughnuts, stomach growling, alerting him to the fact it'd been days since he'd had anything substantial to eat. The sandwich he'd had earlier had actually only been a few bites.

"Sam!? Did you _know_ there's a severe storm warning and that this entire town, including this here campground has been evacuated?" Bobby pursued the topic that had raised his ire. "Manny just got back, had to drive to another town just to find a store that was open; you got anything to say about that?"

"Voluntary." Sam said distractedly. He didn't really give a shit about the weather; wasn't like he planned on leaving.

"What?" Bobby demanded. He gave his head a hard shake, sure he'd missed a few words. "Say what?"

"The evacuation - voluntary, not mandatory."

"Boy, you've done lost your mind." Bobby tossed his hat in frustration. "You're feeling better, I take it?"

"I've what?" now it was Sam's turn to frown in confusion. "Huh?"

"Look around you Sam! You're in a camper! A camper that is in the direct path of a tornado or hurricane or whatever! What chance do you think we stand?! If we don't blow away or get crushed by a falling tree, we'll most likely drown in a flood." Bobby ranted. "Christ….what the _hell_ is the matter with you? We'll be lucky to make it out of here with that blasted fog!"

"Guys." Manny called quietly, interrupting their bickering. "This fog is nothing. It, you know, the weather, is gonna get worse."

"Worse? How can it get worse?" Bobby barked. "Already can't see my hand in front of my face."

"What does the weather matter?" Sam fingered the box of doughnuts, half listening to Bobby's rant, was that a powdered jelly? "We aren't going anywhere."

"Excuse me?" Bobby rounded on Sam. " _We're not what_?"

"I said, what does it matter?" Sam said quietly. "We aren't leaving Bobby."

"Oh, yes we are."

"No, we're not."

"Staying here is suicidal."

"It's what my gut is telling me to do."

"Fine, you stay here. I'll just take Dean with me and get the hell outta here while the getting's still able to get going."

"You're not taking him anywhere."

"You think to stop me?"

"You think I won't try?"

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Bobby demanded for a second time. "It's not safe here Sam."

"Where is it safe?" Sam countered.

"From Mother Nature? Let me start listing the places." Bobby said wryly, he paused for a breath, searched for his patience and came up empty. "We can't stay here. I'm not going to waste time trying to talk you into seeing reason. Me and Dean will just go."

"No."

"No?" Bobby repeated slowly. "Did I just hear you right?"

"You're not leaving with him."

"My God Sam, this isn't a matter of who….."

"No, I mean…..I won't let him leave…..I won't let you take him anywhere."

"I'll just knock you out with something hard, wake him up and get the hell outta here."

Sam cracked a grin. Like Dean would ever willingly go and leave him unconscious on the floor. "No, you won't." he ducked his head under the weight of the daggers visually being thrown at him by Bobby. "Yeah, I knew about the storm. I can't explain it Bobby, but staying here is the safest place for him. I don't know how I know that, I just do. I'm asking you to trust me…just like…how I got back to the bar in time and how there's gotta be a reason I knew to let Herbert walk away and how you didn't kill Manny and how I remembered about him and how I was able to find a clinic with a pharmacy…..whenever Dean's in trouble, shit just works out."

"A gut feeling?" Bobby supplied. "That's it? You're willing to trust his life to a gut feeling?"

"Strange, huh?"

"Boy." Bobby shook his head. "You'd better hope to hell you're right 'cause we don't go now, we ain't goin' later." he waited, but Sam held his gaze and didn't waver. "We cudda left earlier, had you said something…course, you didn't want to leave, did ya?" he cursed. "Fine, but you'd better be right, he didn't do himself any favors picking you up outta the mud." he turned to Manny. "I got some rope in the car."

"For what?" Sam massaged his forehead with a wince he attempted to hide but Bobby caught anyway.

"So we can find the bath house and get back to the camper." Bobby said. "This fog is gonna get worse and ain't going away anytime soon. Ain't no way anyone will keep their wits about 'em out there. Take two steps and you'll be lost. Hopefully, the electricity doesn't go out."

"Thought you said a tornado or hurricane was coming." Sam was massaging his eyebrows, eyes closed and missed the look of murder sent his way. "Wouldn't that blow the fog out?"

"Right." Manny nodded. "Tie the rope from the camper steps to the bath house. That way we can find our way, well, long as you don't let go of the rope. It's easy to become disoriented in fog in which you're blind." he handed Sam a napkin. "Camper has a generator." he put a hand on Sam's shoulder when he moved to get up. "Stay put, you aren't too steady on your feet."

"Sam, let me and Manny take care of this. Stay here with your brother." Bobby ordered. "Don't talk back to me either and find something to eat. I can't deal with you having another meltdown."

"Do you hear me arguing?" Sam gave in and plucked the doughnut from the box and laid it on the napkin. His headache was bearable, allowed him to function but in no way did he feel 'fine'. Maybe eating would help. "Either of you get anywhere with the antidote?"

"Waiting on some call backs." Bobby said evasively.

"Gooseberries is the holdup, gotta find...aah...someone who...keeps a stash." Manny gulped under Bobby's evil eye. "Right, waiting on call backs."

"You have any idea...?" Sam fixed Bobby with a look that put the older man on guard. "No." he shook his head. "No fucking way!" Bobby didn't even blink. "Seriously? Herbert has the only supply of gooseberries anywhere near here?!" and right there was the reason he hadn't killed Herbert when he'd had the chance.

"Don't even think about doing anything stupid." Bobby fidgeted his hat on his head. "Eat…..there's soup in the 'fridge you brought back earlier for Dean, pop it in the microwave...this is the last time I'm saying it; you need to eat something."

"Yeah...yeah..." sure, a meal and a hot shower would probably make him feel better but what he really wanted to do, was boot up the computer and begin his own search for gooseberries. He again felt his hair. It had dried tangled and he didn't need to see to know there was mud in it. A shower was a must. He held his arm up to view his watch, wondering how long he'd been asleep, well, passed out. Wondered how Dean was. How - _if_ \- he'd responded to Bobby, if there was anything he needed to do.

"Sam, out of everyone me and Manny talked to, only three people ever heard of gooseberries needed to break a curse and all three referred us to the same person. Now sit here and get something to eat. We'll be fifteen minutes or so, then we'll sit down and figure this out." Bobby waited until Sam nodded his agreement then picked up his coat and left the camper with Manny.

They were no sooner gone and Dean was up.

"Hey." Dean swayed, his hand reaching out for balance and falling against the sink when he failed to gain it.

"Hey." Sam glanced up, blowing a breath out. "What are you doing up?"

"Cold." he hand-walked his way down the counter, past the stove, to the fridge until he could reach out and grab the table. He braced his weight on both palms on top of the table. "We alone?"

"No. So, how you feeling?" Sam wisely kept his comments regarding Dean's attire to himself. "Don't look so good."

"Like shit."

"Yeah? How's the leg?"

"Has a hole in it."

"Yuh-huh, your belly still hurt?"

"A bit, yeah and I ain't hungry so don't start."

Sam ducked his head; he had no intention of trying to get Dean to eat anything. Soon as he'd shaken the lingering effects of his headache and Bobby was back and in a more agreeable mood, Dean was being tackled, held down and his leg cleaned. If that included cutting away more of the burned, damaged skin, so-be-it.

They'd ignored it since applying the ointment that morning but that hadn't been his intention. It had turned out to be a long day; Bobby had arrived, Manny had shown up, Sam had gone to town then gone down with a headache.

"Coffee?" Sam offered.

"God, no." he shuddered. "Just resting a bit…bathroom….kinda far, you know?"

No, he didn't know. The camper was thirty feet long; the bathroom was ten steps away from the bedroom but he wisely kept his mouth shut. No need to antagonize Dean.

"God-damn." the door slammed shut behind Bobby and Manny as they entered the camper. "Getting cold out there. Wind's a bitch." Bobby shed his coat. "Dean? What the hell are you doing up?"

"Hafta piss."

"And?" Bobby reached for his cup of coffee, took a taste then popped it in the microwave to heat up. "Sam, I don't smell soup, didn't I tell you to eat something?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna….had a doughnut….just haven't gotten up yet…"

"I've got it." Manny opened the fridge, removed the carton of soup, loosened the lid and when the microwave dinged, handed Bobby his coffee and started the timer on the soup.

"So, still peeing red?" Bobby asked Dean but looked to Sam for an answer.

"Oh, he hasn't made it to the bathroom yet, stopped to rest, 'cause the bathroom is so far away." Sam explained with a roll of his eyes.

"Fuck you." Dean flipped him off. "Prick."

"Is that so?" Bobby drawled. "Huh."

"You know, I don't need this." Dean pushed off the table. "And I don't need no peeping-Tom watching me piss, either."

"Well now, that's too bad." Bobby pushed open the door to the bathroom. "Cause, what'cha gonna do about it?" he stepped aside. "Right this way."

"Hey Sam?" Dean groaned.

"Yeah Dean?" he blinked, looking up. "Wh…..?" was all he managed before Dean landed in a heap near Manny.


	8. Chapter 8

"DEAN!" headache forgotten, Sam was out of his seat and on his knees beside Dean before either Bobby or Manny had a chance to process the fact Dean had fainted.

"Dammit." Bobby scratched at his chin, beard itchy from the drying rain. "I don't need this now, really, I don't."

"I'ma'k." Dean tried to push the hands feeling him up and down and patting his cheeks away but his attempt was pretty feeble. "Stop."

"Just stay still." Sam accepted a glass of water from Manny. "Dude, you gotta stop scaring me like this." he let Dean ease up and recline on one elbow to sip the water. "What the hell was that all about?"

"Dunno." he reached to take the glass from Sam but his hand shook and Sam refused to relinquish his hold. "Just….kinda….got dizzy….you know?"

Bobby had a damn good idea. Whether it was an injury to the spleen or some other internal injury, lifting Sam to his feet had been too much. "Okay you, enough playing around, back to bed."

"Gotta piss." Dean went to lay his head on the floor and was surprised to find someone had thought to toss a pillow down for his comfort. Well, ok, that was nice, but damn, it wasn't much of a soft pillow….and the floor was cold and…..

"Sam? How's he…er, feeling?" Bobby asked. Sam shrugged, giving his head a slight shake. Dean paid neither any attention, concentrating on trying to see what was wrong with his pillow. It was warm – rough – but warm, and he savored the feeling of heat beneath his cheek. He was soooo taking it back to bed with him. Blanket and pillow and...wait, what were they saying?

"Where's the thermometer?" Manny was asking.

"Still gotta piss." Dean heaved a sigh of disgust, disgruntled with his body's betrayal.

"Fine….then get up." Bobby issued the demand in such a way Dean's hackles rose.

"Get off me, I've got it." he opened his eyes and found himself looking into hazel eyes peering down at him through mud tangled bangs. Huh, strange…well…..it was either get up or pee on the floor. Before he could move, his pillow did. What the hell? Since when did…he frowned then grimaced when he realized his warm, comfy - if rough - pillow was Sam's thigh. "Fuck….man…..I tell you….." he tried to sit up, but his body was not having it. "Guh!" his cry of pain caused those hazel eyes to turn murky brown.

"What is it?" Sam stopped Dean from rolling to his side. "I need you to calm down, ok? Breathe through it….you're ok…just take it easy."

"I've got it….." biting his lip, one arm held protectively against his belly, Dean lifted his head and with Sam's help, managed to sit up. Bobby caught Sam's eye over Dean's head, neither liked how hard it was for Dean to breathe nor did either comment on how hard he trembled or the sweat that lined his forehead and lip. Obviously the effort to sit up had cost him.

"Dean? Is it your belly or leg?" Bobby asked, reaching for an ear. "Sam, maybe we just outta look at his leg right where he is."

"Huh?" Dean frowned, he was tired of having his ear grabbed and what they hell were they trying to stick in it? He pulled away, clutching to Sam as he waited for his head to clear and the dizziness to subside. "I'm not staying here. Too cold and let me piss or you'll have a mess to clean up."

"Won't be the first time." Bobby huffed. "Gimme your damn ear."

"Sit still." Sam took hold of the back of his neck. "Dean, hey, just give it a minute….."

"Noooo." he moaned, squirming to free himself of Sam's hold. "Lemme go."

"Ten seconds." Sam held firm. "Stop it…..Bobby?"

"I've got him." Bobby told Sam, holding Dean's head still by a firm grip on his jaw. "Worse than when you were both kids."

"What are…..?" Dean scowled, trying to duck his head but Sam's shoulder was in his way. "Let my ear alone, I don't have a fever…I can't, 'cause I'm freezing."

"Yeah, we know." the thermometer beeped, Bobby read the display and shook his head at Sam. Sam held his hand out to take it so he could read it himself.

Ninety-four. It wouldn't read any lower but it told them enough to know they were well within the danger zone of being unable to prevent the onset of hypothermia. No more putting Dean to bed next to someone wearing wet clothes.

"Okay, come on, on your feet." Bobby took Dean's weight once Sam had gotten Dean to his feet. "Sit down and eat Sam….take some aspirin, I don't need you both passing out on me."

Sam was reluctant to relinquish his brother to anyone but Dean went willingly to Bobby so he let him go and retook his seat at the table. Manny sat across from him, sipping from his take-out cup as he watched Sam mostly stir the soup, taking a bite now and again. He soon became aware that Sam was more focused on him then eating and ignored the sweet coffee Manny had brought him.

"What?" Manny finally cracked, unable to sit silently through the shy glances directed his way. "Dude, cut it out, you're freaking me out."

"He wants your drink."

Manny turned around to look over his shoulder. "Hey man." he wondered where Bobby had gotten to. The bathroom wasn't big enough for two people and Bobby had stood outside the door. "He what?"

"He wants what you're drinking. It ain't coffee, is it?" Dean wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. "Some kind of healthy, herbal crap, right? Tea?"

"Aahh, yeah….chamomile….I've had a stressful day."

"Give it to him the so he'll stop looking like a kicked dog." Dean started to slide down the closet door but before his ass could hit the floor, Bobby grabbed his arm and hauled him upright.

"No, you don't." Bobby tsked-tsked, clicking his tongue against his teeth. He caught the unspoken question in Sam's eyes and nodded. Yeah, there'd been blood, he was still bleeding.

"Why not? Floor's good."

"It wasn't a couple of minutes ago." Bobby sighed. "God's teeth, but you can be difficult. Bed's better…..come on….."

"But Sam doesn't have to go to bed."

"Yes he does." Bobby pushed him along. "And he will, soon as he finishes his tea, he'll join you."

"Join me? Hell, doesn't he have his own bed? This camper has to be big enough to sleep….." he used a finger to count the faces around him then himself. "Four."

"Yeah, he's sleeping with you."

"Why?" Dean's lower lip trembled. "I don't want him sleeping with me. If he wants the bed, I'll sleep back here in one of the bunks."

"You can't….now move."

Dean wanted to argue but he was cold and though he might not be able to recall what day it was or how long they'd been staying in the camper, or how they'd come to be in the camper, he remembered how warm he'd been when sleeping next to Sam.

"Sam." Bobby paused. "Uh….you want…..?" he nodded towards the first aid kit sitting on the counter. "You know….maybe…..?"

Sam paused, then shook his head. "I'd rather not. He hates needles Bobby, you know that." he knew Bobby was referring to the morphine.

"Shooting him up is the only way you're going to get near his leg. You don't want him fighting you or thrashing around, not with that belly injury."

His mind warred, his head joined the battle and his eyes sought his brother. "Hip." Sam caved. "Want me to do it?"

"I've got it, eat your soup." Bobby pawed through the kit. Dean made his way appliance by appliance back to bed. "Follow in five minutes."

Sam forced himself to finish the soup. It wasn't that the soup wasn't good, it was, he just didn't have an appetite. He knew from experience the best way to chase off the lingering headache was to eat and he knew his body was demanding nutrition as well. Denying it sustenance would only make him weaker and more ill.

"You ok?" Manny asked. "You don't look so good." he put a pot of water on every burner on the stove and sat back down. He wished he could do more but doubted his help would be accepted. "Not at all happy."

"Don't I?" he rubbed his eyes. "I'm about to shoot my brother up on morphine, on top of keeping him doped up on Dilaudid and torture him for the second time in as many days. Why would I be happy about that?"

"You don't…"

"I chose to keep him here." Sam snapped. "Whether he would benefit from medical attention or not, I denied him that chance. An infection could kill him Manny." he got up from the table. "You think I don't know that? He's bleeding internally, he has what is probably a 3rd degree burn, he could freeze to death lying right next to me and oh yeah, some crazy whacko, who _cursed_ him, is trying to kill him."

"Sam…"

"And let's not forget Mother Nature throwing everything she has at us. Like I to need hear Bobby go at me like I can control the weather. It's not my fault."

"Hey, dude chill out." Manny said soothingly. "Calm down Sam, you need to be calm to go back there and help with your brother. Step outside a minute and get your head together. Just don't leave the step or we might not find you again."

"I need to get dressed." he pulled a pair of worn, ratty jeans from his duffel on his bunk and went into the bathroom.

Dean crawled into bed, grabbed the blankets in both hands, pulled them up to his shoulders and curled up beneath them on his side. He wanted no part of anyone or anything. He wanted to get warm and pass out. That was his plan, his only plan. He was tired of being grabbed, held, restrained, denied what he wanted and forced to do what he didn't want to do. He'd had enough.

"Hold on there sport." Bobby tugged at the blankets. "Not so fast."

"Whaa….tttt!?" he groaned, promising violence if everyone didn't _just_ leave him alone! "God-damn, go away and leave me alone."

Bobby grunted. He didn't need Dean to move, the way he was laying was fine; Dean wouldn't even see the needle and all Bobby needed was some skin.

"Just stay still." Bobby gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Be over in a minute." he gave up trying to free the comforter and sleeping bag from Dean's death grip and dug his way in from the side. "Ah-Ah-Ah…." he batted away Dean's hand as it snaked behind his back in protest of the breeze of cool air that hit his exposed skin. "Gonna feel a stick, just a pinch."

Sam grimaced at the yelp. Manny jumped, scrambling to get out from the table, convinced Bobby had started without Sam and the hot water. Sam held a hand up to stop him, lip curling as he fought the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Just Dean." he let a small grin of affection escape. "Can stitch him up and as long as he has a bottle between his teeth, you don't hear a peep outta him. Stick him with a hypodermic needle and he hollers bloody murder."

"Jesus Christ!" Manny sat back down. "You'd think Bobby was stabbing him the way he's carrying on."

Sam snorted, setting his empty bowl in the sink. "He has a high tolerance of pain, yet he makes you feel like shit for giving him a shot. And it's gonna take more than one to put him under its influence."

Manny stayed at the table, armed with phone and laptop, determined to find another source of gooseberries. Sending Sam after Herbert's supply in his current state of mind could get more people than just Herbert hurt. He and Bobby could go, leaving Sam to take care of Dean but….. He shook his head, no way was Sam going to allow someone else to confront the man who had nearly taken, and could yet still, take his brother from him. Better to wait and talk it out with Bobby and get his opinion. He knew this Sam better than Manny ever would.

"How much did you give him?" Sam asked quietly from the doorway, now dressed in jeans and a clean shirt.

"25mg." was the terse response.

Sam winced, chewing on his lower lip. It was a high first dose, more than recommended and Dean had yet to show signs of its effect.

"You wanna hold him down or wield the scissors?" Bobby asked briskly, supplies spread out on a table he had pulled next to the bed.

"I…aah….will….." he pushed a hand through his hair, a reminder he still needed that shower. "I'll hold him."

Bobby turned away. The omission of the word 'down' hadn't escaped his notice and he didn't want Sam to see the reaction on his face that he was desperately trying to hide.

"Hot water?" his voice was gruff.

"Manny will bring it back once it boils…..so…..okay then." he whipped the covers off Dean, pushed him onto his belly and had the leg of the pants rolled up before Dean could do more than utter a squawk of protest. "Oh, shut up." he sat down on the bed, rearranging the blankets to cover Dean's back and shoulders and right leg best as he could.

"Want me to tie his leg?" Bobby pulled rubber gloves from their plastic package, avoiding looking at Sam.

"N…" he cleared his throat, voice cracking. "No, let's see how he does first. You know he hates being restrained. I don't wanna do that – putt him through it unless we have to. Gonna be bad enough when he realizes I….that he's being held dow…" he paused. "…held by me."

"Gonna need better light." Bobby started to get up but Manny was in the doorway. "Sam, you gonna be able to hold it together?" he finally looked at Sam, waiting for the younger man's nod of agreement. "Thatta boy."

"Got an LED lantern, a 100 watt lamp minus the shade and a flashlight I can hold if you need me to." Manny said. "Ready for the water? I'll bring it in."

"Put more on to boil." Bobby ordered. "Then come help Sam hold him down. He ain't gonna like what we're about to do to him."

Dean stirred, frowning as his warm, happy place began to cloud and swirl in waves of…..angry pain. His peaceful slumber was being disturbed and no amount of wishing or threats was making the disturbance go away.

Weird.

The feeling of discomfort began, oddly, in his toes. His ankle began to throb next then the feeling went to his knee, leaving the joint feeling swollen and tight before spreading up his thigh to settle at his hip.

Even more weird; he had both a shin and a calf, yet neither appeared to be causing him any grief.

At first, the shushing sounds were soothing and comforting and the constant, gentle circular motion on the back of his right shoulder kept the spitting clouds of unease at bay; gave him something to grab and hold on to. But those gestures were deceiving. Lulled by the comfort offered, he could stomach the painful throbbing from his toes to his hip, leaving him totally unprepared for the pain that exploded at the heel of his ankle.

Pain that was sudden, violent, attacked viciously and spread quickly; it became too great to fast and no amount of soothing sounds and soft touches made it tolerable. Panic over-rode his ability to be calmed and he began to seek a way to get away, hoping to gain distance from whatever was causing him upset, but no, wasn't to be, it pursued him.

"Get him." Bobby told Sam as Dean's squirming became an outright attempt to crawl up the bed. "I'm almost done here." done with cleansing and wiping away the loosened skin and puss with antiseptic wash anyway. "The ointment loosened a lot of scabs from the blisters. I'm gonna cut 'em off as well as more skin from the edges. Sam, he starts screaming, gag him. You hearing me? Sam! Hey, you with me?" his voice was sharp, cutting, and Sam jumped, head jerking up.

Sam swallowed hard, complexion pale, soup sitting lodged in his throat. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to have forced himself to eat after all. He managed to nod, giving Bobby the go-ahead to continue.

"Manny, you ain't got much ass to ya, so if you hafta, sit on him….don't let him kick me."

"What about his fists?" Manny asked uncertainly. "Maybe you should tie him….."

"He's on his belly, ain't gonna be swinging at nobody." Bobby motioned at Sam. "He can hold him still."

"How?" Manny questioned, tone full of doubt. "You sure? 'Cause I gotta tell you…"

"You just worry about his leg." Bobby shoved his hat back further on his head. "Sam, don't let him choke, you think he ain't gonna like me cutting his skin, wait 'til he feels the hot water."

Sam flinched at the snap of rubber as Bobby pulled on a glove. God-damn, he hated that sound. Ten minutes later, Dean was in Sam's lap, shirt, sheets and Sam damp from his sweat, one hand fisting the sheet, the other Sam's jeans at his hip, alternating between screaming into the mattress and choking for breath.

"Sam." Manny said softly. "He….he's bleeding…..his tongue….or…..?"

Sam took the towel from Manny and raised Dean's head by his chin. "Bit through his lip." he held the towel to his brother's mouth, wiping the blood off, and wedging a finger between his teeth to make sure Dean hadn't bitten through his tongue as well.

Dean gagged, sand started to choke. Sam tossed the towel and held him still while Bobby injected a second dose of morphine. They gave him ten minutes for it to take effect and began again. Bobby kept an eye on Sam who remained calm despite Dean's increasingly frantic thrashing on the bed, in his arms, across his lap. When tears streaked Sam's cheeks, Bobby had to consider the toll Dean's suffering was taking on the younger man. He sat back, giving them all a moment to regroup.

"Can't you give him more?" Manny asked, using Sam's abandoned cloth to wipe tears and blood and spit from Dean's face. Sam hadn't been kidding when he'd said Dean had a high tolerance of pain. Good Lord.

"Could." Bobby agreed. "Ain't wise though."

"Ok, and you're doing this to him again, why?" Manny knew but had to ask anyway.

"To prevent infection." Bobby explained. "He's got enough against him, ain't letting an infection do him in."

Sam massaged the back of Dean's neck, thumb rubbing along his collarbone, fingers splayed. He could feel the heaving chest against his knee, feel the hot breath on his stomach, held the violently trembling body close with his free arm and found his own breath was coming in fast pants to keep tempo with Dean's.

"Sam? Doing ok?" Bobby questioned. The wind had picked up, had become so strong that the camper rocked when buffeted by the gusts. "Damn." and from the sound of the rain hitting the window, it was sleeting.

"No."

"Give him more." Manny ordered, not quaking under Bobby's hateful glare. "Man, come on, you're killing me here doing this to him."

"A third dose will likely knock him out….I gave him 50mg's this last time…..I'll risk another 25 but that's it. You're talking overdose over 120 and far as I know, he ain't never had this much pain meds in his life." he looked at Sam. "Has he?"

Sam wavered, fingers rhythmically massaging. He hated drugging his brother, hated restraining him, and hated hurting him. Hated that despite the fact Dean responded to him, it didn't make any of this any easier. The decision was his and his alone. Bobby would keep whether he agreed with Sam's decision to himself and do what Sam wanted.

"No, not even when – after – Alistair." he looked down, trying to stop his jaw from quivering at the sight of the growing wet spot on his jeans. Blood and spit. Dean was across his lap, cheek on his thigh, mostly on his right side, stomach too sore to bear his weight, seeking a haven, taking what little comfort he could get. His grip on Sam the only thing keeping him grounded.

"You weren't with him for several years." Bobby began.

"Does IT matter!?" Manny exploded. "God, DO either of you _have_ a HEART?"

"Dean? Hey, you with me? Can you ride it out?" Sam contorted himself into a position where he could talk into his brother's ear. He waited, but his only response was the tightening grip on the waist of his jeans. Wet lashes didn't flutter, deep pants didn't stutter. "Go ahead." he told Bobby thickly. His eyes were wet – like they always were when Dean was hurt – and he didn't care that Bobby and Manny knew it. "God, let it be enough he passes out." he lowered his head to wipe his face in the crook of his arm, not willing to lose contact with Dean.

"He's gonna be one sick dog when he comes outta it." Bobby warned. "You know how he comes outta sedation."

"We have chamomile tea." Sam smiled weakly. Bobby nodded; a third shot, another ten minutes and Dean went limp in Sam's lap.

"How's his breathing?" Bobby asked, tossing the cloth he'd been using to bathe the burn with water as hot as he could stand it. "Gonna have to keep a close eye on him, make sure he ain't od'ing on us."

"His leg is swollen." Manny advised. "Pulse is good, lips aren't blue, and he's breathing ok. He looks like he's doing ok. We just have to keep a close eye on him."

"When he starts to come out of it, ain't gonna be pretty."

"So, you're saying he's gonna have a rough time of it?" Manny questioned. "Great, like you haven't put him through enough." he started cleaning up discarded wrappers from gauze and bandages. "Hope you've got some Emetrol in that kit."

"Okay, that's it, I'm done. We'll wrap it and elevate the leg. I want him either on his back or on his side, I don't like him lying on his belly." Bobby pulled off first one glove, then the other. "Sam, how you doing?"

"I want a shower." Sam eased the now dead weight off his legs and held Dean up so Manny could swaddle him in his blanket before settling him on his right side and covering him with the comforter and sleeping bag.

"When you get back, go to bed and get under the blankets with him." Bobby said. "He's going to need the body heat."

"Don't let go of the rope." Manny warned. "Don't be dawdling either, get your shower and get back here. I really don't like the turn the weather has taken."

"You're gonna stay with him?" Sam asked Bobby.

"I ain't goin' anywhere. He's gonna be out for a couple hours, he…" Bobby saw Sam's frown of impatience. "What?"

"Just, take care of him." he gathered what he would need for a shower and left the camper.

"You know." Manny moved to tuck the blankets a bit tighter around Dean but Bobby hip-checked him out of the way so he could do it himself. "For another person's body heat to be most effective, neither should be wearing clothes."

"You gonna tell him that?" Bobby asked with a chuckle. "And he knows."

"Skin to skin is recommended." Manny continued, missing the humor in Bobby's tone.

"I don't think it's to that point yet." Bobby laid a hand on his shoulder. "Come on, we'll let him be, leave the door open. Gotta tell you, I know we need to get cracking on this antidote, but I'm beat, drove all night, been one hell of a long day."

"We're not going anywhere in this weather anyway." Manny pointed out. "Keep him warm, hope he doesn't bleed out internally, pray you successfully delayed the onset of infection and he should be able to hold on another day or so until we can leave and get the gooseberries."

"Yeah, well, pray like you've never prayed before that you're right." Bobby peered out the window but couldn't see if it were raining or sleeting through the fog. "And I ain't never, in all my days, seen weather like this."

"Pray?"

"Anything happens to him, ain't a hope in hell of trying to control Sam."

"You, aah, think….he'll go…..?" Manny gulped, recalling the Sam he'd known. "Shit."

"I don't think, I know." Bobby said grimly. "He's lost Dean before, it wasn't pretty."

"Well, then, I should've got an electric blanket. Sure Manny…." he palm-smacked his forehead. "Think of it now…..but I did get hot cocoa…..99.99% caffeine free….because caffeine isn't any good for him."

"Gonna be a while before he keeps anything down. Come on, I'm ready for bed."


	9. Chapter 9

If it weren't for the dried mud caked in his hair, Sam wouldn't have bothered wasting his time with a shower. Any good the hot water accomplished would be diminished by his walk back to the camper. Hell, he should have just stripped naked and stood outside in the rain with a bar of soap.

He wanted to linger, but other than taking an extra five minutes to shave and brush his teeth, he didn't waste time. He figured ole Oscar the Grouch would give him thirty minutes then vacate his trash can to come looking for him. And if Oscar had to come out in this weather after Sam's sorry ass, he'd take delight kicking it all the way back to the camper. And kick it he would, for Sam, out of respect, would never raise a hand in defence.

The camper was quiet when he returned, a light left on over the stove, his duffel on the sofa. So, Bobby and Manny had gone to bed. Couldn't blame them, Bobby was beat and Sam wasn't feeling so hot himself. He dried off from the cold rain, dressed in warm clothes, swallowed some aspirin and crawled into bed. He turned on his side; arm folded under his head, to face Dean. He didn't feel any alarm that his brother was suffering any effects of so much morphine. Bobby would've checked on him while Sam showered and wouldn't have gone to bed had there been any danger of Dean being in trouble.

He counted the shallow breaths and extended two fingers to take a pulse along a throat, slick with sweat. Satisfied that his brother was in no immediate danger or extreme pain, he turned over, back to back with Dean, and moved as close as he could without actually touching. He was nearly asleep when a beam of light passed over the bed, lingered on his face then switched off, the door was pulled partially closed and Bobby went back to bed.

Sam felt a pang at the thought that Bobby, who'd driven most of the previous night and spent a stressful day, would be up most of the night – again. Well, not like Sam would be getting much sleep either. The weather, Herbert, elusive gooseberries, anxiously waiting for signs that Dean was beginning to stir and his own headache, were enough to keep him concerned and sleepless.

So, he laid and waited and dozed; woke, fretted, waited and dozed. He was sure at some point, dawn broke but he didn't know when. The weather hadn't let up; the wind hadn't lessened, the rain hadn't abated and the skies hadn't lightened above the intense fog.

And Dean, damn him, still hadn't woken up.

"So, what'cha got?" Bobby, up after a few hours of sleep, joined Manny at the table. He'd looked in on his boys; Sam, emotionally wrecked, had simply blinked blearily up at him and Dean, still heavily medicated, hadn't moved. No twitching, no moaning, no moving about. His breathing was even, his pulse was steady and his heart rate was normal. The only thing that made Bobby uneasy was, despite the long-sleeved thermal shirt, the blanket he wore as a shawl, the comforter, the sleeping bag and Sam's broad back against his, Dean still shivered with chills.

Body heat was the best thing Sam could provide and if Dean was willing to take it, Bobby would do everything he could to encourage it. And that meant keeping his big mouth shut. He began to wonder if Sam was enough, perhaps Dean being sandwiched between two bodies would be what it would take to keep him warm.

"Coffee?" Manny offered. ""It's after dawn, not that you could tell."

"Thanks." Bobby accepted the mug of coffee and took a seat at the table.

"Herbert's in Portland." Manny said. "I can track him and Sam knows where the warehouse and the bar where he jumped Dean are. Everyone there knows him. It won't be hard to find him. Finding where he has gooseberries though might not be as easy."

"How many do we need?"

"A pound will do it." Manny slid several sheets of paper across the table to Bobby. "Gooseberries aren't all that hard to find. Wild gooseberries grown in Northern Scotland?" he snorted. "Might be easier to fly to Scotland and pick them ourselves. 'Course, they're probably seasonal, anyway he'll have them in a fridge or freezer, don't you think? I don't know how long you can keep them."

"A pound? Hell, we'll take all we find."

"So, me and you?" Manny asked. "Sam, aah, he…I don't think….I mean, what? We sneaking out on them?"

"Ain't no one goin' anywhere until this damn fog lifts." Bobby huffed. "With all that wind and rain that fog should've blown outta here by now."

"Will he leave Dean?"

Bobby gave a hearty harrumph. "Not a problem."

"You, aah, know Sam pretty good then?" Manny asked. "Known him long?"

"Since he was all but a tot, why?"

"Nothing, just…I wouldn't have agreed so quickly to staying here, you know? A camper, in the woods near a river is not a safe place during a violent storm."

"One thing you gotta know about Sam, he might turn a deaf ear and a blind eye to his brother but there ain't no way he'd ever do anything to let harm come to him. You remember that."

***000***

Dean stirred, feeling cramped and attempted to stretch out, only to find that his body wouldn't respond the way he wanted it to. Catching the cry of pain by biting his lip and fisting the sheet against his mouth, he tried to concentrate on convincing his stomach not to revolt. He couldn't recall much and had no hope of remembering. His head was in a cloud and no amount of waiting and wishing or cursing caused it to clear.

Finally able to open his eyes, he saw nothing but a white blur and the effort to make shapes and objects come in to focus was too great. Trying to ease onto his belly caused his stomach muscles to violently protest and this time there was no stifling the cry of pain.

"Hey, hey, hey-hey-hey-hey, hey." a hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing in an attempt to offer comfort. "Just stay still, you're okay."

"Ow." he panted into his pillow. "Owwwwww."

"What? What is it?"

"We…." he licked his lips, mouth dry. "We….you….why?" he tried to work spit into his mouth, failed. "You…got me…on a boat?" his stomach continued to roll and heave and dip and drop and bile remained lodged in his throat that no amount of coughing forced up or back down. "Fuck." damn, his mouth was dry. "Ugh."

"What? I can't understand you."

"Sam? He awake?" Bobby asked. "Why's it sound like he's choking?"

 _Fucking finally, Sam thought._ "Think so…..little confused though." Sam responded aloud. "And he's just coughing, get me a glass of water with a straw."

"Never know how he's gonna come out bein' medicated." Bobby muttered. "Confusion though, that's a new one."

"Saw-am?"

"Yeah? Right here, what?" Sam stopped him from trying to roll over. "Just lay still Dean, keep your head flat."

"We…we're rocking…?" he squirmed. "Gawd….make it stop!"

"Make what stop?"

"The…rocking…..we…..fuck sakes…..why we on a boat?"

Sam pushed his hair back as wind buffeted the camper, and understanding dawned. "Oh, no, no boat. We're still in the camper, it's just really windy."

"Make it stop."

If only I could, Sam sighed. He'd do anything to ease any discomfort his brother was suffering but preventing the wind from rocking the camper just wasn't within his means to accomplish. There'd been a couple of times during the night when a gust of wind had been so strong he'd expected the camper to blow over. The storm had continued to rage and between worrying over the fact Dean had yet to wake up and the threat of being crushed by a falling tree or the camper being blown across the camp ground, no one had gotten much rest.

"Okay." he agreed. "Just put your head down and keep your eyes closed."

"Water?" he croaked, tired of chewing cotton. "Waw—ter."

"I got it." Bobby said. "How you feeling?"

Like he wanted to vomit but couldn't. "Awful." he tried to ease up on his elbow but settled for raising his head just enough he could drink from the plastic cup Bobby held for him. His tongue chased the straw until Bobby held it steady between two fingers and he finally clamped it between his teeth. "So, no boat?"

"No boat." Sam assured him.

Dean protested with a whine when Bobby took the cup from him, leveling him with a look of hurt that had Bobby cursing under his breath.

"I'm….still…thirsty!" he complained, turning his sorrowful gaze to his brother. "I'm….not, done." his voice grew breathy, words coming weaker and slower with each pant.

"Yeah, you are." Sam replied. "You can have some more in a bit. See if you keep that down, first."

"Okay, guess." he said, perplexed, a frown furrowing his brow as he tried to remember why he was in bed with Sam, of all people. He laid his cheek on his folded arm. "Go 'way."

"Feeling any better?" Sam asked.

"No." came the pitiful moan. "Feel…like…shit."

"Yeah, bet you do." Bobby said. "How's he doing Sam, still breathing and all ok?"

"Yeah. I'm kinda surprised he came around so good. Took longer than I'm happy with, but, least he's not sick."

"But nothing. He's bleeding internally and I don't care what your gut's telling you. Keeping him here just guessing he's got a split spleen and not knowing…"

Sam held a hand up, halting Bobby mid-tirade. "Soon as you tell me where to find those damn berries and this fog lifts, Manny and I are outta here. Once we have them, I'll call you and meet you at the hospital."

"Oh really?" Bobby drawled. "Just like that?"

"Yeah Bobby, just like that." Sam retorted, getting off the bed to stand face to face with Bobby. "You got a problem with that?"

"And if I do?"

"You think I care?"

"Nope." Bobby shrugged. "And you can leave him, just like that?"

"I'm leaving him with you. All he's going to do is sleep and it's only for a couple of hours, deal with it."

"You think so?" Bobby shook his head in disgust. "And I ain't gonna be the one who has a problem with it."

That gave Sam reason to pause. Dean wouldn't be kept on meds much longer, another day at most and once he realized Sam had gone after Herbert with no back-up - Manny wouldn't count - he'd be hot on Sam's trail.

"So what, Bobby? We need those berries."

"And we should have left before this storm came! What did you think would happen if we took him to a hospital? Okay, maybe a doctor wouldn't have been able to fix him of the curse; they wouldn't know about it but they'd've been able to diagnosis the internal bleeding."

"Because leaving here just didn't feel right. I can't explain it Bobby, but…."

"Sweet Jesus, one of these days you're gonna be the end of me boy. If liquor doesn't kill me via my liver, the ulcer you give me is gonna do it by rupturing" Bobby stepped into Sam's face, nose to nose. "You listen to me, you go after those berries and you get those berries and you hightail your ass back here, that understood? You let Herbert go until another time. We give your brother the antidote and _then_ take him to a hospital. Does that meet with your approval?"

"I guess it has to."

"Good, now go out there and rant at Mother Nature instead of me."

"Rant? Now wait just..." Sam began, well on his way to a true full-blown rant. "You want to see me rant? I'll give you a..."

"Hey, she's the one holding you here, not me." Bobby cut him off, in no mood for a heated argument. "Now, you want something to eat?"

***000***

Despite the wind and rain as the day passed and the storm raged on, the camper held firm and neither satellite nor electricity was lost. Sam alternated between pacing the camper, trying to sleep and walking the length of the rope in hope the fog had lifted. Bobby, tired of his restlessness, kicked him out of the bedroom and took his place in bed next to Dean. Sam fussed at first, but Bobby started snoring in the midst of his tirade so he went out and continued to rail at Manny.

Dean awoke more lucid than he had been in days around midnight, Bobby next to him. He didn't wake up feeling well, didn't want to admit to being awake or even move but his body had other wants - and - demands. He managed to sit up on his own, but the ability to get out of bed was beyond him.

"Ssushhhshush." Bobby yawned, open book on his lap falling to the floor with a thud. "Pipe down, Sam is finally asleep, you wake him up and you'll need an ice pack to keep the swelling down on the fat lip I'm gonna give you."

"Huh?" he drew his leg up, trying to ease the ache in his calf. "God-damn." he whispered, feeling his hair, itching his jaw and tonguing his teeth. "Ew."

"What are you belly-aching about now?"

"I hafta get up." taste of blood from licking cracked lips made him hold his stomach as it rolled in revulsion. "Guh!"

"Give me a minute to check on your brother then I'll take you over to the bath house."

"Take me? You'll take me? What the fuck?" breathless, he went down on his side, lying on his arm. "What…are…you…why are you….in my bed?"

"Oh, shush and don't argue with me." Bobby got off the bed. "I'm gonna be needing some of that wash-the-grey-outta-your hair and you're GONNA buy it for me."

"What are you talking about?" Dean gave his head shake then groaned, not a wise move. "You're already grey." he swallowed, fighting the nausea that surged up this throat. "Shit."

"Salt-n-pepper." Bobby corrected. "You ok?"

"No." he pushed himself upright, eyes squeezed closed against the dizziness and attempted to get out of bed but was able to gain his feet only when Bobby grabbed his hands.

"Come here, I gotcha...two steps down...and for the love of all, don't let go of my hand, you hearing me?"

No, he wasn't hearing! He was barely balancing on one leg, fighting both his stomach and the desire to faint; he didn't have the strength to listen to anything anyone had to say. He didn't even want anyone near him, let alone holding his hand while he was on his knees puking in the mud. The cold air smacked him in the face as he stumbled out the door and fell down the two steps, bum leg not cooperating.

When he pulled away from Bobby's hold, Bobby let him go, holding him by his right ankle, not about to chance him crawling away and getting lost in the fog. Dean protested but when Bobby gave his foot a sharp tug in reprimand, he ceased.

"Dean?" Bobby questioned after several minutes of silence. "You ok?"

"I need…"

"I know…..come on….. get up…..your leg ok? It ain't a far walk."

"I don't need you holding my hand."

"You ain't going on your own."

"Whaa-tt?" his pale face appeared in the mist as he sat up. "Can so…..learned when I was…..two? Maybe?"

"The bath house, you nitwit." Bobby huffed in exasperation. "Not in this fog. You hafta hold on to this rope all the way there and then back. Think you can do that?"

"I just want privacy." he sighed in defeat. Yet another battle he'd been denied the opportunity to win.

"Sure…once we get to the bath house…..now come on…..on your feet." Bobby sighed, so much for a chance to check on Sam before leaving the camper.

They were longer in the bath house then Bobby had planned. Once there, Dean saw the showers and he became worse than an obstinate four-year old child throwing a temper tantrum. Nothing Bobby said dissuaded him from getting in; not the lack of a towel or clean clothes, he saw the soap and shampoo and shower shoes Sam had obviously left and he was suddenly sturdy of foot on two good legs.

"Great."

Bobby wandered outside. He wasn't about to go in the shower with Dean. Not unless he heard a cry and a thud and received no response. If he'd known when he got back from taking Dean to the bath house, he'd be greeted with chaos; he just might have dragged Dean out of the shower after all. Dean dragged ass on the short walk back, stumbling along, grumbling about Bobby's hold on his sleeve, alternating between hopping, hobbling and using Bobby as a crutch. He stepped through the door of the camper and crashed face first on the sofa.

Bobby arched his back, attempting to ease the ache born from bearing most of Dean's weight before making him get up and take the few steps to the bed. Dean gained his feet on his own by holding to the back of the sofa, thinking to ask where the Emetrol was, when Bobby suddenly pushed past him. Knocked off-balance, his leg buckled and he collapsed on the sofa with a curse and a howl. Bobby checked both bunks, throwing the blankets to the floor before throwing open the bathroom door.

"Fine." Dean muttered, blinking at tears of pain and abandonment. "Get myself to bed." he didn't bother to try standing a second time. "Find the medicine on my own." he crawled over the arm of the sofa where he grabbed the entertainment console then the doorway. "Do everything myself anyway."

"Manny, where the hell is Sam?" Bobby slapped both palms down on the table in front of the young man, keeping his voice to a furious whisper.

"Aah, he's with you, isn't he?"

"NO!" Bobby hissed. "Keep your damn voice down."

 _"Bobby."_ loud.

"I thought…." Manny gulped, easing from the seat and getting up from the table. "I mean, the bath house. I assumed he went after you?"

 _"Bobby!"_ louder.

"You assume? You mean, you're guessing?" Bobby thundered. "Don't you know?!"

"Where else would he go?" Manny stuttered. "Maybe he went to check on Dean and lay down on the bed?"

 _"Bobby!"_ impatiently louder.

"Why don't you tell me? He was asleep when we left. We weren't gone long, half an hour maybe." he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. "What the hell ails you now?" he turned to respond to his name being repeatedly called but his attention was still on Manny. "And what do you mean, maybe? Didn't you check?"

Dean heard the hushed whispers and in some part of his mind, knew Bobby was agitated but all he could do was stand in the doorway of the bedroom, hand on either side of the door frame and stare.

The small room was in shambles. The blankets and sleeping bag were flung from one wall to the other. The mattress was off the bed frame, the closet door was open and the bedroom door hung on one hinge. It was a camper, it was barely a room and contained few objects but it had been torn apart.

 _" **BOBBY**!"_ shouted.

"WHAT?!" he walked the length of the camper to peer over Dean's shoulder, wondering why he hadn't either gone to bed or sat back down on the sofa. "What the….? Manny, you've got some explaining to do. Start talking."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm gonna ask you one more time and you'd better have the answer I need to hear." Bobby fumed furiously. "What the hell did you do with SAM? WHERE IS HE?"

"I'm sorry, come again?" Dean's voice was dangerously low, all signs of fatigue, discomfort and nausea gone. "What the fuck do you mean, where's Sam?"

"He was right here." Manny paled, backing away from Bobby after seeing the destruction in the bedroom. "I…..just got up…..he…..are you sure he didn't come to the bath house after you?"

"Yes, I'm sure!" Bobby spat. "WE never let go of the rope. WE would have run smack straight into him. WE DIDN"T."

"Oh." Manny said stupidly. It was obvious Sam was nowhere in the camper and if he hadn't held onto the rope and followed it…..he was….Dear God, he was lost out in the fog.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bobby demanded.

Dean was flinging first one blanket, then another, swaying and wheezing from the exertion of trying to remain standing and bending over. "Need…..my, boots."

"For what?"

"Go…after Sam….."

"No, you're not."

"Gotta. You saw that fog, kid's lost." he thumped his fist against the cabinet in frustration when he failed to gain control over his rebelling body. "Fuck."

"You aren't going anywhere….Jesus Christ! Are you TRYING to give me a HEART ATTACK?"

"Can't leave him out there…Bobby. Gotta go get him, gotta find him."

"DAMMIT DEAN!" Bobby shouted, banging his fist against a counter top, attention and ire diverted from Manny. "Stop your nonsense! Just cut it out! You can't go anywhere."

"Don't even start Bobby, don't even."

"Listen, you dumb ass, we are still here, despite the warnings of a friggin' tornado or hurricane or whatever because your brother was convinced it's safer for _you_ here than anywhere else. There ain't no way in hell I'm letting you go out there in search of him." Bobby was firm. "Not in your condition."

"You can't stop me."

"Oh hell, yes I can." Bobby spit out. "I won't even have to knock you out; I can just knock you over. I'll find something to tie your ass to wherever you fall."

"Try it." Dean threatened.

"Try me." Bobby countered. "I just had this fight with your damn brother."

"You're pushing."

"He wouldn't leave and you won't stay." Bobby heaved a huge sigh. ""I can't carry your ass back here Dean, gonna be hard enough dragging his back, work with me here. You know him, he's gonna come back to you. Be here when he does."

"Guys…" Manny tried to intervene from the safety of the door that led outside from the camper. "He….why would he leave? I mean, where would he go?"

Dean glanced over, blinked then stared. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Aah, Manny, I'm Manny." he licked his lips nervously. He was never going to answer his phone again. Maybe he'd retire, get out of this life before one of these two brothers ended it. "The guy you left tied up on the floor."

"He left because when he woke up, Dean wasn't here." Bobby said grimly. "So he went to find him."

"Wouldn't he think you had him?"

"Stay out of this." Dean growled.

"I'm just saying….."

"Well don't!" Dean snapped. "This is your fault….there's one fucking door! How the hell did he get past you to get out it? What the hell were you doing when he was trashing this room?"

"Dean….."

"No! Just no! He was fine Bobby! Ok, yeah, maybe he hadn't been sleeping so good, but hell, he was ok! He was here and he was ok! Now? God, now he's….."

"He wasn't as ok as you'd like to believe." Bobby argued. "Proof of that is standing right there, ready to pee his pants, in front of you." he pointed a finger at Manny who was poised to take flight. "And that had to be days ago Dean, you've been out of it for three days."

"Dammit Bobby, he wouldn't just up and take off! He was dealing and yeah, ok, he has…issues – episodes…but come on!"

"Yeah, and he had you walking and talking, not rolling around in bed whining every time you moved and complaining that you're cold. He was crashing Dean; he hadn't eaten or slept in days…."

"He was doing better once you got here." he paused; he seemed to recall finding his brother on his knees in the mud. "Wasn't he?"

"No! He wasn't doing better! Hell boy, you had him tied up in knots!" Bobby threw both hands up in the air. "He wasn't eating or sleeping….to the point he said you told him to take something!" Bobby frowned at the strangled noise from the man with one foot out the door. "You got something to say?"

"He…aaah…..well….I…..maybe gave him something ….." Manny paled at the twin looks directed his way. "To, aah, help him sleep, you know…Oh shit."

"You did what?" Bobby's ire with Dean was shelved as he turned his complete attention to Manny. "When?"

"What?" Dean asked. "What did you give him?"

"Nothing! Just…..look he needed some sleep….the guy was….."

"What-did-you-give-him?" Dean bit out, voice more growl then tone.

"Nothing bad, honest, it's a legal prescription. Doctors prescribe it all the time." Manny stared down at the fists that had his shirt by the lapels, pulling him up to this tiptoes. "Ok! Ok! Ambien…it was Ambien."

"Are you out of your mind or just that fucking stupid?!" Dean shouted. "He already has hallucinations and delusions and headaches that turn him inside out! Do you have any idea what the possible side effects of that shit could do to him?"

"Dean! DEAN! Let him go! He didn't know!" Bobby stepped forward. "He doesn't know….he knew Sam _last_ _year_ …..come on… .dammit or so help me God, I will knock you the hell out." he felt Dean's hold on Manny weaken. "Now sit your ass down. You fall over, I won't be picking you back up, you dumb ass!"

Dean responded to the tug on his shoulder and threw Manny away from him, engaging in a stare-down with Bobby, trying to determine if the older hunter would carry through with his threat. He dropped his eyes and dragged the back of his hand across his upper lip to wipe away the line of heavy sweat. Biting his lower lip, he eased himself down onto the sofa.

"You lost him, you find him or I will maim you for life." he told the man hovering half-way out the door. "One hour Bobby."

"Do I need to tie you up or will you behave and stay here?"

"One hour Bobby." he repeated.

"We're never going to find him in this…." Manny fell down the two steps, landing on his ass in the wet grass. "What the….?"

Bobby stared out the door. Skies illuminated to grey from the bright, clear moon, sparse heavy clouds, light drizzle and no fog in sight.

"I'll be damned." he'd walked through heavy dense fog, not ten minutes ago. Where had it gone and how the hell had it gone so quickly? "Let's go." he told Manny. "Dean, here….wrap up, all I wanna see is the top of your head." he tossed the blanket and sleeping bag at Dean. "Here's some water, a pot to puke in and the Emetrol and so help me God, if you aren't on that sofa when I get back, you won't be able to sit down for a week."


	10. Chapter 10

"Do whatever it takes to convince him to come back with you." Dean gave in. "Say whatever you have to."

"You mean, you want me to lie to him." Bobby's tone showed his disapproval, he didn't need to voice what he truly felt.

"If that's what it takes….yeah. You don't have any idea how he's gonna be IF you find him. He may not even recognize you or respond if he hears you calling him, so yeah, lie through your fucking teeth."

"Manipulate him." Bobby huffed. "I'm not ok doing that to him."

"I don't care."

"What can he say? Sam would…" Manny began only to gulp nervously when a finger poked him in the throat. "Er, that is….."

"You shut up." Dean growled. "Bobby, tell him the weather cleared and it's time to go find Herbert."

"Would be better to wait until daylight…" Manny tried to explain before falling silent under a glare that promised death. "I mean, we still don't know...I mean we haven't found..." he tried again but was effectively silenced by a mere hand motion. "I mean, shut up Manny."

"You be on that sofa when we get back, or else." and Bobby went out the door.

Dean heard the door slam solidifying the departure of the two men and allowed his body to slump boneless into the depths of the sofa. More like a loveseat really, but it didn't matter. He was freezing, couldn't rub the goose bumps from his arms and legs no matter how vigorously he rubbed himself with his hands and curling up in a ball in an attempt to create warmth didn't stop the shivering.

He tried to remember if he were still being given painkillers, came to the conclusion he was and sat up with the intent to seek out more. Once vertical however, he rethought the need for relief and settled for swigging from the bottle of Emetrol before lying back down. He'd have gone to bed had there been a bed to go to. He wasn't comfortable on the sofa, missed the warmth from a body being next to him and didn't doubt Bobby's threat should he be found elsewhere. He was miserable and alone and teetered between making use of the bowl Bobby had provided and passing out.

***000***

"So, you….aah, were, uh, are kinda mean to Dean, don't you think?" Manny plodded along after Bobby. All three vehicles were accounted for so Sam was on foot.

"He never stays where he's put." Bobby hefted the heavy backpack he'd retrieved from the trunk of his car over one shoulder, flashlight in hand. "Memmbe you should stay here. I ain't back in an hour; I'll have two idiots to look for."

"You expect me to keep Dean here if he decides to go after you?"

"Yeah, well thing is….I find Sam and he finds out I left Dean alone…he ain't gonna be happy." Bobby rubbed his jaw. "I don't need him fighting me." he wavered, debating on what mental condition he'd find Sam in. "You stay here." he announced, banking on the belief once he convinced Sam that Dean had never been lost and was at the camper, tucked up warm and dry with Manny babysitting, he'd be ok and be in the here-n-now. He pushed aside the nagging memory that Manny had lost Sam while on Sam-watch.

"How do you know which way to go?"

Bobby didn't respond because he didn't know the answer. He set off in the direction of the bath house, eyes scanning the ground, bushes and trees for signs of having recently been crashed through.

Manny watched him until he was out of sight then returned to the camper, locking the door behind him. No way was another Winchester escaping on his watch. Dean didn't move when he entered and if Manny hadn't known better, he'd never have guessed someone, let alone a man of Dean's size, was amidst the bundle of blankets on the sofa.

He put water on to boil then set about putting the bedroom back to rights. When he was done and he stepped out of the room, unable to rehang the door properly, Dean was emerging from his cocoon. Manny watched as he wiggled his way to a mostly sitting position, bloodshot eyes darting about looking for movement within the small area of the camper. He waited, but other than rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, Dean didn't move.

Manny hovered in the doorway, switching his weight from one foot to the other, as he waited for Dean to pass out. He didn't make a sound, barely moved, but apparently Dean knew he was there and who he was.

"You." Dean accused, head against the sofa, eyes closed. "You took my blanket."

"Uh...erhm...no?"

A soft snort. "Sam?"

"Bobby thought it would be better if he could tell Sam he hadn't left you alone."

Dean shrugged, made sense. He drifted off and with a pat on the head, Manny left him be. At some point, he must have whined or whimpered or sniffed because hands were petting and patting him then a mug was put in his hands. He warily took a whiff, suspicious he would be allowed coffee. He was quite sure both Sam and Bobby would hit the roof were he offered caffeine. Yup, tea….yuck. He hated tea but he was cold and shaking and his leg gave him fits and his belly hurt and he ached all over, felt every bruise and scratch inflicted during the attack at the bar, so, he sipped.

Words were muttered and he heard the comfort of shushing as the blankets were tucked more tightly around him. He obediently opened his mouth and swallowed when told. Pain pills were a wonderful thing but these weren't as strong as what he'd been taking. And he knew that because this time he was told to swallow, not hold under his tongue. He yawned, feeling safe and warm, even if he couldn't stop shivering. Probably Percoden, Sam's favored choice of pain relief when he was in charge of distribution.

***000***

Convinced his brain was swimming inside his skull, Sam stumbled from bush to tree to tree without the ability to blink his vision into singular sight. His head had split in two, eyebrows attempting to burrow into his skull from which his brain was trying to escape. He gave up trying to walk and went to his knees. Forehead held against is skull by the palms of both hands, he squirmed around to sit on his ass, back against a tree.

He needed five minutes to rest, because back or breast stroke, brains shouldn't be able to _kick_ one's own head. The wet ground soon soaked the seat of his jeans and his teeth began to chatter from the feeling of overall dampness. He lowered his hands and opened his eyes; his headache was manageable, if barely bearable. His own comfort could be seen to once he had Dean back and returned to the safety of the camper. It didn't matter that his head was too heavy to sit atop his shoulders; he could see straight, and as long as he could do so, he would search for his brother.

Well, he would as soon as his head stopped taunting him, stopped telling him stupid things, stopped making him see things that weren't really there and stopped chanting his name repeatedly. Soon as all was quiet, he'd get to his feet and resume his search.

"SAM! Sam! SAM! Damn you boy! ANSWER ME!"

"NO!" he whispered. "Stop it!" he ordered the sing-song voice in his head….not now, God, please, not now. He could fight it off, he would…he had to…..because Dean….. "Just...stop it."

"Sam? SAM! You alright?" Bobby approached cautiously, not sure if Sam would come at him swinging and shooting, tackle him or simply stare athim. "Hey, Sam, it's me, ole Bobby…..you with me?"

"Bobby?" he struggled with his head, argued with his brain, willed his sub-conscious to become present. Bobby kept talking and he followed the familiar voice back to reality, finally able to raise his head and see Bobby with focused eyes. "Bobby? Bobby, Dean…he…he's….!"

"No, no, no, NO, he's fine…..he was with me Sam, I took him over to the bath house. I left you with Manny, all you had to do was ask. Remember? We've talked about that. Ask your questions out loud, don't follow the voices in your head."

"You…you're you? You're really here?"

"Yeah, it's me, I'm really here. Now come on, let's get you back to the camper, Dean's waiting."

"No…" the success he'd had corralling his headache slipped. It had threatened to take over and now that he knew Dean was safe, he no longer had the strength to fight it.

"Sam, hey! Oh no, you don't! Sam, don't you fade out on me, not out here…no, no, no, no, you can't. Don't you dare…come on, we've gotta get back to Dean."

"Head…hurts."

"Fight it." Bobby ordered. "Fight through it Sam, we can't stay out here...we can't."

"Nooo." he moaned.

"Suck it up and come with me." Bobby waited. "We have to go back, it's dark and cold...you don't want Dean out here, do you?"

"No." he let his chin rest on his chest. "Don't - want - him - here."

"Then you have to get up and go back to him or he will come after you, you know he will."

"Can't, head hurts Bobby...God...it's like...mmmm."

"You can lie down at the camper, get dry and warm, see Dean. He... I left him with Manny Sam, you think he'll take waking up in bed next to Manny well?"

"Eh?" he mumbled. "But... _it hurts_!"

"I know kid." Bobby laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I know." and he wished to God there was something more he could do to help the kid through the headaches brought on by stress and fear over his brother. Meds, a quiet room and a wet cloth weren't much but it was all Bobby would be able to provide. They still didn't know the depth or extent of Sam's inner torment and Bobby doubted they ever would so other than locking Dean up so he couldn't get hurt or sick or lost or be placed in danger, there was little else he could do to help Sam.

"I need...just need a minute."

"You don't have a minute. We hafta get back before Dean gets it in his head he needs to come help me find you. I'm telling you Sam, he can't carry or pick you up off the ground. Not when we don't know why he's bleeding or what he's hurt in his belly."

"I..."

"He can't take this cold." he waited, eyes on Sam as the younger man fought to ward off the coming migraine. If he went down, there was no way Bobby would get him back to the camper. "He's not getting any better Sam, the fog has lifted, the rain has let up, by the time we get back and you get changed and we get around, it'll be dawn and we can head out."

"Head - out - where?" Sam concentrated on his breathing, trying to take deep breaths without gagging. He heard Bobby, he did, and he believed Dean was safe at the camper with Manny and while his panic over finding Dean gone had yet to completely subside, he was getting control of it.

"Sam!" Bobby snapped sharply. He hated having to choose between his two boys, but Sam would survive this round. There was every possibility Dean, trekking through the dark, damp air chilled from rain to find his brother and then have to lift or carry him, would not. "We have to go….Dean needs us…needs you, you can't ignore that. He has to come first. Shove your shit down, man up, and let's go!"

Clenching his teeth, Sam fought to his feet. Once standing, he held tight to the tree, accepted a bottle of water from Bobby and allowed the older man to lend him a steady hand.

"You good?" Bobby asked, feeling rotten for being so stern with the kid. "Okay then, let's go."

***000***

Manny had been watching out the window and as soon as they came into sight of the camper, he threw the door open in welcome. Sam had one arm slung across Bobby's shoulders but was walking on his own, Bobby simply guiding his steps, not bearing his weight.

"About time!" Manny scolded. "Hey Sam."

"Dean?" Sam asked immediately.

"Just waking up. How the hell he knows it's been an hour is beyond me, come on….let's get you some aspirin, some hot tea and some dry clothes."

"I'm ok, but tea sounds great, thanks." he gave Bobby a questioning look that Bobby ignored. What was this about an hour?

"You got any dry, clean clothes left?" Bobby asked.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure." he noticed Dean's red, swollen eyes were tracking their movements as the three jostled around one another for position in the camper. "You awake?"

"Depends." he muttered, still judging Sam's state of mind. "Uh, no?" he let it dangle as a question then sighed when it appeared no one was biting. "What?"

"What'd you give him?" Sam asked Manny. Dean might be awake but he was not alert nor did he look good. His eyes were glassy, his teeth chattered, he sat and shivered and panted. "Dammit."

"Vicodin." Manny blinked, paling. "That's right, isn't it? It's the bottle you left."

"Yeah, it's fine." he pushed at his wet hair, accepting a towel from Manny. "Thanks."

"Sam…come on, get those clothes off. We'll put Dean to bed and once you're changed and dry, you can lay down with him." Bobby heaved a sigh when he saw Sam gear up to protest. "We'll get you some aspirin and a cold towel for your head."

"Ice pack." Sam corrected.

"Sure..sure. We'll make plans to leave at first light."

***000***

Herbert Winston Coleman rounded his mahogany desk, tumbler of fifty-year old Macallan scotch in his hand. He had reason to celebrate; his business, dealing in unusual, other world artifacts, had thankfully survived the bumbling attempt of those two incompetent hunters. What had those fools been thinking? Like they could take him out!?

He chuckled as he sat down in his chair made of the softest leather and rested his feet upon his desk, crossing one ankle over the other amidst piles of hundred-dollar bills. Yes indeed, his latest transaction had been extremely successful.

Well, ok, he'd concede one point in the favor of those bumbling morons; they'd actually managed to vanquish his biddable spirit. He frowned; now he'd have to go about finding a way to get himself another one, but hey, that was doable and those hunters were paying the price. One had been struck by his laser, he was certain of that. He'd come across him at the bar and while he may have failed to finish him off then, the curse would take care of that for him. He'd be dead before his partner knew about the curse. That's if the injuries he'd inflicted upon the hunter didn't do him in first.

He briefly thought perhaps he should guard his gooseberry bush, but there was no way on earth or in heaven, certainly not hell, that they would know about the antidote or that he and he alone had the only available supply of gooseberries needed for it.

He'd searched nearby hospitals and clinics for the pair but other than hearing about a break-in at a clinic that boasted a full pharmacy, he'd been unable to find a trace of either of them. That didn't make sense and the more he thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed he'd yet to hear of a hunter's death or at least hear that one had been admitted to a hospital with a severe burn and possible internal injuries.

He doubted they'd gotten away….no, he knew they hadn't. They were holed up in some seedy motel room and there they would remain until death. They'd never even know what hit them. He wasn't worried about the other one. He'd go on his way, write the death of as hunt-related and take up a job elsewhere.

Rain slashed with sudden fury against his office window and he raised his glass in toast and knocked back the remaining scotch. Even the weather had been in his favor. The cold, the dampness from the heavy fog, the icy rain, the chilly, strong wind, all worked in favor of the rapid onset of hypothermia.

He got up and walked over to his side bar to pour himself a refill. Hunters. They were really, truly over-rated. Easy to take out a spirit, not so easy to avoid curses and break them once infected.

"Aah, Herbert." he toasted himself in the mirror. "You truly are…" his eyes locked on the image in the mirror of a man standing behind him. He just stood there; not moving, not speaking. He wore jeans and a jacket and Herbert believed him to be one of his workers from the warehouse. Probably worried about his job. No need, Herbert had already located another warehouse and would begin moving in within the week. He was not out of business, there'd be plenty of work.

"Herbert Winston Coleman."

"The one and only." he turned around, knocking back the drink. "Something I can help you with?"

"I just want you to know something."

"And that would be?" he poured a third drink. "I have office hours and a secretary….."

"Who it was you tried to kill before you die." pause. "Any why you failed."

"I beg your pardon?" Herbert quirked an eyebrow. "You must have me mistaken….."

"I know who you are and what you do. I want you to know the mistake you made before I kill you."

"You think you're going to kill me?" he laughed. "You? Here? Now? Highly unlikely."

"I don't see any laser security beams in your office."

"Aah, I see." Herbert walked over to his desk and set the tumbler down. "You're one of the hunters from the warehouse break-in. Well, if you stayed out of where you don't belong, your partner would still be among us." he hid a frown upon hearing the specific reference to the laser.

"He's my brother and you didn't succeed in killing him."

"You're brother, huh? Well, he might still be with us but I assure you, it's temporary."

"Oh, you mean the curse? I already found your house and I have the gooseberries needed to make the antidote." stunned, Herbert abruptly sat down. "I see you're surprised…maybe I should let you live. Take your tongue, your sight, your hands, your feet…..shoot you in the knee caps, let you live in a world you can't communicate in. Would you like that Herbert? Ain't no one around who would lift a finger to help you."

"Who…? Who the fuck are you?!" Herbert demanded with false bravery. This man unsettled him and he casually reclined in his chair to reach for the .45 loaded with silver rounds he kept in a pocket of his chair.

"My name isn't important but since you asked, it's Sam. Sam Winchester and I am going to enjoy being the last person you ever see." and Dean would do happy dances over the piles of money and Bobby would give him a kiss when he presented the grumpy old man with those bottles of scotch sitting on the side bar.

"I don't believe you." Herbert said bravely, waiting for his hands to cease shaking and become steady. "I sent men to every hospital and clinic and urgent care facility within an hour's drive of here. The storm towards Mt. Hood…..no one would have stayed put through that, the town was evacuated. I checked motels...nothing. No one fit either your physical description or your brother's symptoms."

"I don't need a hospital or a doctor to take care of him. I can - and did and always will - do it myself." Sam explained. "I know how to keep him safe." and he had by insisting they remain at the camper throughout the storm. Had they been in a hospital or motel, there'd been no way to know if Bobby and Sam would have been able to protect Dean 24/7.

"You couldn't have known about the curse...you...you're just human..."

"Am I?" Sam gave him a sick smile.

Herbert fired at the same time Sam did but he had neither Sam's accuracy nor speed. Perhaps if he'd been able to shoot first, he'd have been able to take the hunter out but Sam's shot was a kill shot, even it if would take several minutes for Herbie to bleed out.

"Thing is _Herbie_ , no one… ** _no one_** is ever going to get away with trying to take my brother from me." he pulled up a chair and began to count the stacks of money sitting on the desk while Herbert lay, gurgling in a heap at his feet. He wasn't going anywhere until Herbert drew his last breath.

***000***

"He eating anything?" Bobby wiped his hands on a dish towel, happy to be back at the cabin that was now his home.

"Ice cream." Sam supplied, sprawled on the couch, one socked foot hanging over the arm, magazine open across his lap.

"That's it? And you're ok with that?"

"Hey, least it's calcium." Sam sighed. "All he wants is chocolate ice cream or a chocolate milkshake. He's been so miserable I've been reluctant to deny him anything."

"Yuh-huh. Give it another couple days, you'll want to gag him 'cause he'll drive you nuts."

"Would be different if he wasn't keeping anything down, you know?" Sam shrugged, turning his attention back to the magazine and thumbing to the next page. "But he is, so..."

"Two days Sam, two more days….then it's back to a doctor….we never should have taken him from the hospital."

"Couldn't very well leave him there. How were we supposed to answer all those questions? And he's fine, he's off the heavy pain meds which means he'll start eating soon."

"He better." Bobby threatened. "He damn well better."

If only!

"Sam…..dude, hungry here." Dean begged. "Did you not hear me?" he plopped his spoon into his bowl of….what was the definition of gruel anyway? "This…this…this is not dinner, it can't be…it's not food." he stirred and slopped, wrinkled his nose, stirred and spooned and gave up with a scowl of disgust. He couldn't. He just couldn't. Hell, he couldn't bring himself to even attempt a taste.

"Sure Dean."

"Bobby, how about a steak?" he turned hopeful eyes to the elder hunter. "Mashed potatoes? Some gravy? Grill some onions…..how about that? What'd'ya say? Huh? Huh? Yeah!" he nodded eagerly, pleased with himself for his decision. "You've done nothing but bitch about me eating...so, cooked well done, if you don't mind."

"He'd say you haven't eaten anything in over a week." Sam set some warm rolls on the table. "He'd say you've been on heavy-ass pain killers and just started eating toast and crackers so your stomach isn't up to grilled, fried, hot, spicy or heavy food. So how about you give me and Bobby some peace and quiet and eat your soup."

"This is soup?" he questioned dubiously. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"Bobby? A burger? No onions, won't even ask for fries."

"Sorry Dean."

"But I'm hungry!"

"Then eat." Sam sighed.

"This? I hafta eat this?" he asked mournfully. "Really?"

"Yeah, you do." Sam kept the affection from the grin he gave his brother. Dean would see it as a smug smirk and Sam just didn't want to deal with a tired and grumpy Dean. Cranky was all he could take.

"But…why?"

"Dean….eat." Sam sighed. Oh yeah, Dean was definitely feeling better. The curse broken, Herbie no longer among the living, the diagnosis of lacerated spleen confirmed by a doctor and Dean was well on his way to being wholly mended.

"Can I have a cookie? Gimme a cookie." he reached to help himself to one of Sam's oatmeal-molasses cookies but was thwarted first, by Bobby smacking the back of his hand with the ladle used to serve him soup then by Sam moving the plate out of his reach. "One cookie?! Come on, I've been good."

" _When_?" Bobby exclaimed with a snort. "You've been difficult and stubborn and a pain in the ass since I met up with you."

"What? Noooo." he shook his head in vehement denial. "Sam….tell him."

"Dude, he made me cookies." Sam munched around a mouthful of cookie while Dean eyed him wistfully. "For putting up with you."

"Yeah, well….." he pulled a pout before frowning in irritation. "It's all your fault anyway."

Sam choked, spewing cookie crumbs. Bobby calmly handed him a napkin. "Shit you say!" he sputtered. "How is any of this _my_ fault?"

"You got me stranded in a camper in the middle of nowhere during a freak storm." Dean accused happily. He pointed a finger at his cookie-munching brother. "Your fault."

"Oh yeah? Well it was _your_ fault I didn't get any sleep." Sam retorted.

"Gimme a cookie!" he made a grab for the plate.

"No." Sam swatted his hand away. "Get off, they're mine."

Bobby turned his back on the bickering siblings, smirking fondly as he wiped his hands on a towel that he had to raise and dab at his eyes. Stranded and sleepless but always together. Those were his boys.

***END***

 


End file.
